


even if it burns

by mondkind



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Prophetic Dreams, Slow Burn, or: midas au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25367956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mondkind/pseuds/mondkind
Summary: Catra lets her eyes wander; in her dreams, the girl always looked like she had emerged from the ocean, white silk around her limbs, flowing with the soft breeze that it was always present. Up until the last minute, she looked almost free. But now— the dark golden fabric pools around her feet, dragging as she moves slightly.She considers. “You just— you don’t look real.”Catra thinks that she might’ve seen the girl’s eye soften for a millisecond, but her mouth twists.“It’s better for you if I’m not.”-Catra believes the eerie tales of Bright Moon as much as she believes that the girl with golden hands and burning touches that haunts her dreams is real. But Adora stumbles in her life against all odds and breaks the ground under her feet.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 228





	1. hallucinations

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a makeup look that had golden touches and my brain went "wouldn't it be neat if adora had midas' curse" and now i'm here! hope you like it!!

> i could touch a hundred thousand souls
> 
> but none of them would ever feel like home
> 
> and no matter how far and wide i roam
> 
> you're the only one i'll ever know
> 
> — anyone else, PVRIS
> 
> what am i, if not yours?
> 
> what do i do with my hands
> 
> when they are just hands?
> 
> — olivia gatwood, from “the lover as a cult"

Catra has recurring dreams.

She doesn’t remember when she started getting them, only that it was a constant in her life. As a kid, she would sometimes draw a little too much of the same thing, the same familiar blurred face looking at her with wide eyes. In the dark, Catra sometimes saw blue glowing at her— and it would be gone in a heartbeat. Her art teacher thought it was great that she had inspiration, that it was something few people had— something inside, bigger than her, that motivated her into creating. 

Catra never really bought that, even though she liked the drawings. But eventually, she grew up and wasn’t always able to wake up and just draw— not when the images became fast, harsh and she couldn’t breathe afterward. Sometimes, she couldn’t even  _ see, _ but she would feel a strong grip on her hand, nails clutching her arms like it was the end of the world. 

(Maybe it was, because, sometimes, Catra would wake up and see scars that weren’t there before.)

She started writing, then, filling her nightstand with journals, scribbled calligraphy, and slurred words. It wasn’t exactly a dream journal, as her therapist called it on a few occasions, but still not something she would read for a literature project— even though she did, once. 

Today, her hands are shaking, but she still grips the pen and forces herself to write what she remembers.  _ She was wearing a long white dress, but it was stained with blood. And I held her, but it wasn’t enough. There was a cliff and I couldn’t see the bottom of it and she fell. I didn’t hear it and I couldn’t see her face, but I felt that she was real.  _

The pen almost rips the paper when she finishes it and slams the notebook on her nightstand. Catra’s exhausted— she always is when she has these dreams. And, like it happens every night, she drifts off to sleep after a while of steadying her breath.

When she wakes up, she doesn’t remember the dream.

  
  
  
  


“You got everything you need?” Scorpia asks. 

Catra goes through her list— again— because she knows that if she doesn’t, Scorpia won’t relax. “Yeah. Double checked it. Again.”

“Are you  _ sure?  _ What if you need something that  _ isn’t  _ there, I mean— _ ” _

_ “Scorpia.”  _ Her tone is serious but she makes sure not to sound rude. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything is fine, really.”

She opens the door, checking the time through the cracked screen on her phone. Glimmer would be pulling in at any time now. 

“Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“You know I will.”

She goes quiet, scratching her cheek. Scorpia probably knows, by the look on her face, that Catra had one of those dreams again— or just a bad dream, for what’s worth. It’s not Catra’s favorite subject, but it eventually came up after living with Scorpia for some time now. And she knows how much Scorpia cares and can almost see the question she’s dying to ask but— it’s not something Catra feels like dealing with.

At least she doesn’t have to, for now. Glimmer is already calling her, impatient as ever, which means she’s already downstairs. Catra doesn’t take long saying goodbye but she still hugs Scorpia and swallows the lump on her throat— she does  _ not  _ need to talk about it. 

When she reaches the car, Glimmer has sunglasses on, even though is a cloudy day. Catra bites back a smile as she moves to open the car trunk. She didn’t pack that much — it’s just for the summer and she doesn’t have that much clothing, after all — but, knowing Glimmer, the backseat is full of her stuff. 

“You look terrible,” she chants, louder than she actually has to. 

Glimmer groans, headfirst into the wheel. “Stop  _ screaming, _ for fuck’s sake. I have like, the worst headache  _ ever.” _

“Get out,” Catra flicks her wrist, “I’m driving. No questions allowed.”

Glimmer doesn’t even protest, dragging herself out of the car.

“You took aspirin or something?”

“Yeah,” she replies, adjusting herself on the passenger's seat as Catra starts driving. “Mermista gave me some.”

Catra glances at her side. Mermista and Sea Hawk are well known for their parties, but she never really bothered to be there to see the following day. Judging for Glimmer, not pretty. “You slept over?”

“Ugh, Bow is gonna kill me.”

“I mean, if your mom doesn’t do it first.”

“Fuck off,” Glimmer hisses, “It’s like, four hours until Bright Moon, anyway. I’ll be totally sober when we get there.”

“Yeah, you tell yourself that.” She considers turning on the radio, even if it’s some classical music or something, only because it’s better than driving in total silence, but Glimmer groans when a truck passes over them, so she stops herself. “I won’t tell Bow if you don’t want me to.”

“It’s fine,” she shrugs, “And I will only have to see him tomorrow, so.”

Catra takes the highway. It’s the middle of the week so there’s no much traffic, the sun setting high above them. Glimmer is lucky she has sunglasses on. 

“You know he can’t stay mad at you for long.” She taps the wheel. “How much did you drink, anyway?”

Glimmer adjusts her sunglasses. 

“You do not want to know.”

Catra tries not to laugh. Glimmer has always been a lightweight, but too proud to admit it. Still, she had always been  _ careful,  _ to say at least, but not the most responsible when it came to stressful times— and that included seeing her mother. Even though Catra got quite fond of Angella over the years, she knows how intense the relationship between the two of them can be sometimes— and how much it means to Glimmer to go back because her mother  _ asked  _ her to.

Glimmer falls asleep shortly after, but Catra still doesn’t turn on the radio. At least there’s more noise in the middle of the day, so she focuses on that, taking her time since she doesn’t know the road yet. It will be her first time in Bright Moon— she has heard about it from Glimmer and Bow enough times to know about all the important bars, the school where they studied, and the park where Glimmer sprained her ankle for the first time. But, aside from them, Catra had always thought that Bright Moon was just a dead end, in the middle of nowhere. She knew it was an old city, and a pretty small one — didn’t even know if it was on the map — but Bow and Glimmer made it sound magical.

When Angella asked Glimmer to stay there for the summer and take care of the house, just until the renovation was complete, Glimmer saw it as a perfect opportunity to bring Catra and Bow along— and maybe she wanted to prove herself to her mother, but Catra wasn’t going to be the one to break out the news to her. Nevertheless, Catra was a little bit curious about Bright Moon and too weak to say no to Bow, so she agreed to it. It  _ could _ be fun, after all.

She focuses on that during the whole ride. Her mind sometimes shifts to her dream, which she barely recover, but, somehow, there were always remnants. Never clear, though. Catra was always left with a puzzle that she did not know if she wanted to bother solving, despite all the signals that she should. She doesn’t know  _ why  _ she keeps getting those dreams, neither does her expensive therapist. It was fine when she still had unfinished business with her family — the whole hanging thing seemed to please her therapist — but  _ now? _ When she was finally doing okay? It doesn't make  _ sense—  _ but again, what can she even  _ do  _ about it?

There’s a subtle pang on her forehead and she knows that, if she keeps thinking about it, she will soon have a headache worse than Glimmer’s. So, for now, she drives, focusing on the road ahead of her, the patterns that she never learned, the weird city names that show up every now and then, as the sun gets lower in the sky.

Bright Moon is a strange city, to say at least. Glimmer had shown Catra a few photos when they first became friends— always side by side with Bow— and later all of the albums, scrapbooks containing polaroids, family portraits, and a remarkable photoshoot from when Bow tried photography for a few months. Catra always felt the same— the photos evoked a nostalgic and striking feeling as if the place somehow had been part of Catra’s life, even though she never even got near it, with Bright Moon being in the middle of nowhere and all.

But, as she passes the city sign, she feels her body getting lighter. It’s like there’s something in the air— but she can’t quite place it. The trees bend to one another, covering the road as sunlight dares to reach her. It forms exquisite shadows on the car’s panel, almost like they’re dancing. When she looks sideways, behind the few houses that started to appear and up the hills, it’s almost like the sun decided to turn the trees into gold. 

She blinks. Maybe Catra is just enamored with the city— Bow  _ did  _ warn her that Bright Moon is something else— but she shrugs it off as they approach the town square. Glimmer is sleeping on the passenger’s seat, so she makes a stop to check the address. The house doesn’t seem to be far away from here, just a few minutes. She still double checks it and messages Bow that they’re already in town.

Turns out, Glimmer’s house is not hard to locate since is the only one under renovation. There are scaffoldings outside it and whoever was working must have just left, given the time. Catra stops in front of the garage, tugging Glimmer at the side. Looking outside the window, the house doesn’t really match the others in the neighborhood. It’s probably much older, and, if it needed a renovation that bad, it probably was falling to pieces— still, it’s beautiful in a way that Catra can’t quite place it.

“How do I look?”, Glimmer asks, taking off her sunglasses. It’s like someone punched her on the face.

“Not that bad,” Catra smiles, gesturing to the sunglasses, “but I would keep it if I were you.”

She ignores Glimmer’s scowl as she combs her hair and they head to the front door. Glimmer’s hand hangs in the air as Angella opens it for them.

“Glimmer!”, Angella exclaims, pulling Glimmer for a hug. Catra looks away, suddenly too conscious that’s been a long time since they saw each other and it isn't the moment for her to intrude; instead, she drags her eyes to the front of the house, the white windows and faded yellow paint. “God, how long has it been since you last slept?” 

“ _ Mom, _ ” Glimmer protests, “This is Catra, told you about her. Bow is coming later today but he’s going to meet his dads for dinner. Anyways, tomorrow he’ll be here.”

Catra forces a small smile, “Hi.” 

She doesn’t expect Angella to hug her. Looking over her shoulder, Glimmer snickers.

“Come in.” Angella rushes through the door. “I was just leaving, but I made cake. You two must be hungry.” 

“But it’s like, five o’clock.”

The inside is cozier than Catra expected. The walls are filled with photos, most of them Glimmer’s, and in some she even sees Bow. She follows Glimmer, who follows Angella, to the kitchen— with more photos, not that she’s surprised.

“Tell that to the office.” She gets a briefcase that was in the counter and goes for the coffee machine. “We have a very difficult client right now, and it’s such a huge deal. We can’t let it slip.” 

“I was hoping we could catch up.”

Catra moves to Glimmer’s side. She knew that the whole reason for spending the summer in Bright Moon was to take care of the house since Angella was never home, but she still sees the sadness on Glimmer’s eyes— and she’s never been the best at comforting touches, but she figures if she stands near them enough, her friends might pick up on what she’s trying to say.

“We  _ will. _ ” She tugs at Glimmer’s hair. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning. Why don’t you invite Bow over to lunch? I miss that boy.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “I know you do, Mom.” 

Angella leaves a kiss on Glimmer’s forehead and she's out of the door in a second. Glimmer stares at the fridge as the rumbling of the car’s engine gets more distant. 

“Your mom seems nice.”  __

“She’s very busy,” Glimmer sighs, chin propped on her hand, “And I don’t know since when Bright Moon became the hotspot of real estate, but yeah. She likes you, though.”

“Of course she does. I’m a good influence.” When Glimmer doesn’t say anything, she adds, “Hey. Your mom misses you too. Being busy comes with being a powerful businesswoman, you know.”

Glimmer shrugs and Catra doesn’t know what more she can do, so she goes quiet. They eat in silence, and, after Glimmer gets her bags, she shows Catra the house.

It’s definitely a pretty house. For a few moments, Catra feels lost in space in time, like she entered another timeline— the night sets slowly, sky purple outside and the air is damp, but there’s the soft summer breeze coming from the windows and, suddenly, Catra feels like she might see a younger Glimmer walking in at any point. She wonders what must’ve been, growing up here— not that she can imagine it, really. Glimmer points to places where she got hurt as a kid and where she used to hide from Bow; there are more and more pictures in every corner.

“This is one of Bright Moon’s oldest houses. My grandparents lived here.” she points to a photo of an old couple on the wall. “Mom wants to renovate but she doesn’t want the house to lose its spirit, you know?”

“Would be a shame.”

They go up to the second floor and stop in front of a white door. Glimmer opens it to a medium bedroom with a large window facing the back of the house.

“This is the guest room. My room is right down the hall if you need anything. There’s a bathroom here, too.” 

Catra sets her bag on the bed, eyeing the wardrobe, but Glimmer still fidgets with her fingers at the door. 

“Spill it, Sparkles.”

She huffs, “Scorpia told me you have trouble sleeping, sometimes. Don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” 

Glimmer leaves, then. Catra thinks about it— trouble sleeping is a euphemism, at best. But, still, she lets her shoulders fall and takes the journal out of the bag.

  
  
  


Catra didn’t expect for there to be so many boxes. And, given the groan that Glimmer just let out, neither did she.

“I can’t believe we have to go through  _ all  _ of these.” She settles on the floor, placing her phone on the coffee table. The sofa is filled with boxes, leaving no place for them— the whole place is packed, to be exact.

“I’m getting wine.”

_ “Please.” _

The house is quieter at night— actually very peaceful, and Catra is thankful for that. She still feels a little out of place, like she’s intruding something that never had an opening for her, but she can work that out. She has always been quite fond of summer nights, after all. The lights are out when she makes her way to the kitchen, and the moonlight casts shadows as she walks down the halls. It should be creepy, aligned with the way the wood squeaks under her footsteps and, for a moment, she tries, really tried, to imagine what would’ve been like growing up here. 

She comes back with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Glimmer is checking out one of the boxes, its content sprawled on the table in front of her. Family albums, Catra realizes. 

“Are we looking at old photos?” she offers Glimmer a glass.

“Apparently, my mom wants to get rid of old stuff.” 

“I thought you guys were all about memories and scrapbooks.”

“Me too,” she replies, softly. “All of these have pictures of my father.”

“Oh.”

Catra knows about Glimmer’s father as much as Glimmer knows about Catra’s family— a few mentions there, some stories here, but never anything concrete and tangible. She knows that he hasn’t been around for a long time, now. Sometimes, Bow would mention him and Glimmer’s face would go dark in a heartbeat, contorted in a way that she always left the room afterward. Catra knew the same happened to her, so every question she could possibly have died on her throat.

Today, Glimmer clenches her jaw and doesn’t look away.

“I guess she didn’t want to be the one to deal with them.” 

Catra looks at the picture on Glimmer’s hand— a teenage boy with dark hair, arms around a younger girl. They seem to be on a farm, a lake behind them, and, in the corner of the photo, a woman is looking at them, probably an aunt or something. The boy looks exactly as Glimmer did when she was younger.

“You don’t have to be the one to deal with them either.”

“Yeah, whatever." She puts the photo away in a pile with other albums. “I don’t wanna get rid of photos of my aunt Casta. Plus I have like, all summer to figure out what to do with that. And I’m supposed to just sort them, I guess.”

Catra dumps one of the boxes next to her. “There’s a  _ lot _ of paper here.”

“You can get rid of whatever is really old, like 2005 and stuff. Tell me if anything seems important.”

There are old wedding invitations, receipts, and grocery lists, somehow. Catra rips them all, throwing them on the bag, while Glimmer chats about what they plan to do with the house— mostly ideas her aunt Casta had for it— and the plans she has for this summer. Catra listens to about half of it, absorbed on ripping paper — therapeutical, really — until she goes for another box. This one has a lot of drawings, marked with a moon in the corner— all Glimmer’s. 

“Oh, my God, I was an  _ artist,”  _ Glimmer laughs, taking one that’s too confusing to really look like something, but there’s a  _ very good! _ on the corner of it.

Catra fills her glass again and goes through them— there’s a lot of the same beach, a purple castle, and a  _ lot  _ of moons— and she stops when she recognizes Bow in one of them.

“Look who I found,” she points, taking a picture of it.

“‘This is so cute. I don’t ever remember drawing these.”

“Of course you didn’t, you were a  _ child.” _

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “Yeah but, I was like, seven when I met Bow.”

“Can’t believe you didn’t know how to draw a circle when you were seven.”

“Shut  _ up,”  _ Glimmer retorts, but she’s laughing, “actually, this is from before I met him. Here,” she points the date on top of the page.

Catra’s mind tingles with the memory of her first drawings, but she pushes it aside. “That’s creepy.”

“Fuck off,” she glances, “actually it was like— okay, so I used to joke about this sometimes with him, but before we met I had those crazy dreams and I  _ swear _ there was a boy that looked like exactly him.” 

Catra’s hand tremble and she almost spills wine on the carpet. She settles the glass on the table, fast, and— what the  _ fuck.  _

“But you remember them?”

“Yeah, they were  _ so  _ elaborate. Like, I was a princess or something, and there was this really cool forest and somehow I was always there? I don’t remember much but I used to draw it because it was the only thing in my mind,” she slips her thumb on the drawing, “and sometimes I saw a boy and we would play together. Met Bow some years later, I think.”

Catra takes the glass to her lips.

“It’s crazy how children process things, you know?”, she pauses and smiles sadly, “My dad used to tell me the craziest stories and I think they just stuck with me, you know? I had already seen Bow in the city, I guess. But I still think it’s a cute story.” 

The tension in her shoulders starts to dissipate. Of course, that’s it— she’s heard this from her therapist, from her teacher, from every person that saw her recurrent drawings as a kid. Children hear stuff and absorb it— you never know how the information is going to come out. Glimmer heard stories and longed for a best friend. Catra felt that her life was falling apart. It made sense, for both of them, to have these kinds of dreams. Not out of normal, she learned in therapy. Just the way the brain works.

“I wish he was here.”

Catra pauses. “Who?”

Glimmer runs a hand through her hair, the purple beginning to fade.

“My dad, I think. But also Bow. I miss him.”

Catra fills Glimmer’s cup. “Yeah. Me too.”

“Maybe we can meet up at his house later this week. You’ll love his dads, they’re the best and they have a huge library in the house.”

“Yeah, they’ll probably want to see you. Bow once said that George and Lance always loved having you over.”

The next box that Glimmer opens is filled with old school books, but running through them doesn’t stop Catra from seeing the way Glimmer blushed at the mention of Bow’s dads.

“What’s that face?”

Glimmer raises her eyebrows. “What face?”

“You’re making a face.”

“I’m not—” she scoffs, turning to look at Catra, who tries to be as open as she can on listening to Glimmer. “Fine, but it’s stupid.”

In response, she pours what’s left in the bottle into Glimmer’s glass, who accepts it without a second thought.

“It’s been two years since I last came here, and Bow was with me the last time. I came back as his best friend.” She strokes her neck. “I guess I just had hopes that the next time I saw them I would be something else.” 

Catra’s heard this before. If she’s being honest, the first impression she had of them was that they were a couple. She remembers telling Glimmer this some weeks after they met and being surprised when Glimmer gasped, face burning red, as well as she remembers how small Glimmer sounded when she talked about her feelings for Bow. It’s not news to Catra, but this— the way Glimmer’s face saddens, fingers twitching while she looks at a picture of them, the rawness in the way she speaks— it will never fail to astound Catra.

“The summer is just beginning, you know,” offers Catra.

“I don’t think that it ever crossed his mind that I could feel that way about him.”

The sentence hangs in the air and there’s no more wine to fill their silence. Catra waits.

“But it’s worse. I mean, if he knows. Because that means that he’s well aware of my feelings, he just… doesn’t reciprocate them.”

Catra frowns. “You’re kidding me? Knowing you two, he could be thinking the exact same thing.”

“You think so?” 

“Yeah.”

Glimmer sighs, letting herself lay on the carpet— they’ve been at this long enough for there to be open space on the floor. The lamp hangs a little bit too angled above her and Catra’s getting more convinced that the place definitely needs some adjusts.

“I just have this  _ feeling. _ It’s not like there were never other people, because there  _ were. _ But, at the same time, it’s like it never left me. That it’s him. I don’t know what to do if it isn’t.”

Catra gets down on the carpet, lying across from Glimmer. 

“You keep on living, I guess.”

“Have you ever felt like that,” she pauses, and Catra already knows what’s coming, “with Scorpia?”

Catra doesn’t think about Scorpia in that light anymore— haven’t for a long time, at least. But still, some nights, the thought lingers. Not because she still feels something, but because she had hurt and messed up, even though they stayed friends afterward and Scorpia had moved on— Catra still has to live with herself, after all.

“I loved her,” she says, “but— I don’t know. I feel like an ass for saying that, but it just— there was something missing, you know? It just wasn’t her.”

Glimmer goes silent and Catra dwells on it— there isn’t much to think about, at last. For a moment, she thought she had it, the feeling everyone talked about. For a moment, she had— but it didn’t last. Maybe it was never supposed to last and, although Catra still feels a pang of guilt, there’s also the kind of emptiness that comes from searching for something she never learned the name for.

“I wish I didn’t care about this stuff.” 

It sounds like a confession. And, just because Glimmer can’t see her face and she could, theoretically, blame it on the wine, she adds, “Yeah. Me too.”

  
  
  


Sleeping came easily once she got used to the dreams. They were a constant, so there was no use trying to fight it— in fact, it got easier when she just accepted that there was no way out of it. She would lay down and drift off to sleep slowly, peacefully even— although there was no peace in the morning.

But tonight there’s alcohol on her system — there is a reason why she never was really a fan of it — and thoughts linger more than they should on the back of her mind. She thinks about Glimmer’s words, about the dreams she used to have, and her mind wanders back to the first time she saw them, moving together as they were in sync, looking at each other in a way she had never seen before.

She turns to look at the window. The crescent moon illuminates her room, and she dozes off trying to look at the stars, searching still. 

Drops of sunshine fall to the earth, turning gold the grass it touches. Catra’s in a field and, looking up, the sunset spreads all over the place, reaching as sunrays keep coming out of the sky. She raises her hand— it’s so close, maybe she can touch it. Her feet move before she does, going into the field and closer to the sun. It’s an ethereal view, she thinks. Everything is golden, truly golden, under the beaming sunlight. She has never seen anything like it— she doesn’t  _ want _ to see anything else for the rest of her life. 

But— something is missing. She looks around and she knows this is perfect, but still— something’s missing. She doesn’t remember what and her head hurts when she tries to, so she looks further at the sun, takes in the whole meadow. Flowers are growing where the sun fell, golden petals brushing her calves. Looking down now, she’s in loose white shorts and a white blouse as well— silky, she feels, and it almost distracts her enough for Catra to forget that she’s looking for something. Sunrays keep falling and she’s not interested anymore.

She gets away from the sun. Far away, she sees the silhouette of a tree. Squeezing her eyes, there’s a girl as well. 

Her heart skips a beat and she’s running before she can even realize— she almost forgets the sky is falling above her. This feels like something, like a missing piece, as the girl gets closer and she can take her in— the flowy white jumpsuit, golden hair without being touched by the sun. She has the most angelic face Catra has ever seen— it doesn’t feel real. It shouldn’t be real. Catra’s sure that, even though sunshine is falling from the sky and gold is spreading through the meadow, this, here, as the girl looks at her with wide blue eyes, is the most beautiful sight she’s ever seen.

She stops a few feet away from Catra. 

Catra doesn’t even realize a ray of sunshine would drop right on her cheek when the girl gets closer and reaches her hand. It never touches Catra, but her chest strips open as if it did. 

“It was going to hurt you,” the girl says. 

“How is that possible? Look around,” she turns, “Everything is so beautiful here.” 

The girl is taller than Catra, but, dropping her shoulders, she seems too small. Her eyes fall and Catra follows them, stopping at her hands. The place where the drop fell turned into a gold spot, spreading through her hands. Her eyes are tired when she looks at Catra. “I told you it was going to hurt you.”

“So you let it hurt you instead?”

She frowns. “What else was I supposed to do?” 

Catra doesn’t hesitate in taking the girl’s hand between hers. She stiffs at first, but her hand softens against Catra’s touch. It fits, even though the gold burns her palm.

“I don’t mind some gold on my face.”

The girl takes a step closer. She raises her hands until they cup Catra’s face. It stings. Another drop falls to her face and, this time, it drips between her fingers until Catra’s face. She feels the burn under her right eye, but she doesn’t look away from the girl until she removes her hands.

“You look beautiful,” she breathes. She still hasn’t stepped away. 

There’s a moment in which Catra doubts. As if the wind told her something terrible is about to happen but— the girl has gold spreading through her collarbones and she doesn’t seem to mind it a bit. She’s wrapped around sunlight— Catra was wrong, she thinks. She’s not a distraction, she’s the reason why everything is happening. It all comes back to her, in the end. The sun follows her figure, stretching itself to make gold to her. 

If this is what was missing, Catra doesn’t want to wait longer. She steps forwards, hand midair to touch the girl’s face, and asks for her name— but she never reaches it. The earth is unsteady below her, rain suddenly pouring against her back. She doesn’t know where it came from— she can’t see anything past the cracks suddenly appearing underneath her, and the girl is getting away. The sun is no longer the beautiful midst of orange and pink it was before, glowing gold above the flowers. It got dark, deep blue around her, even though the gold remains. 

The girl has a hand stretched out to her, but the abyss starts to stare back at Catra. Her back burns like it never did before and it almost feels like she’s being petrified. It gets hard to move, heavy, but she still tries and reaches, and it still burns when the girl gets a hold of her. The ground comes undone underneath her feet and, this time, she’s the one falling.

When Catra wakes up, she’s screaming.

Catra wakes up with a headache. She doesn't remember the dream, but the pain is a reminder that it existed. There's the thought of going through her journal but she drops it as soon as Glimmer comes in, looking as radiant as ever, and tells her that they’re meeting Bow for lunch at his house. She doesn’t ask about Angella, and Glimmer doesn’t explain, so she lets herself get dragged out of the house into the streets of Bright Moon, now during daylight.

It’s not the hottest day, but the sun still hurts Catra’s back as they walk— Glimmer insisted that Catra got to know the neighborhood, walking around. Glimmer greets people here and there and Catra focuses on the colorful houses, flowers popping up everywhere she looks. Everything just feels like the scenery of a coming of age movie. Catra can see love blossoming here, or the possibility of it— not like she’s going to ever talk about how she thinks about it sometimes, stories enrolling behind her eyelids as she takes in the place. Romantic is not the best trait for her, but growing up without it does something to a girl.

“Should’ve brought my skates,” Glimmer mutters when they pass a group of kids rollerblading. 

Bow’s house is not that far away, given that Bright Moon is a tiny city, but she’s already feeling out of breath when they get there. The houses here are farther away from each other, almost hidden between the tall trees that almost cover the sky— the rustle of the trees is soothing and she breathes out as they get closer. The house is big, bigger than Glimmer’s even, and it looks more like a library than anything else. At the back of her mind, she remembers every time Bow mentioned his dads being historians, but she never imagined his house would be a literal library. 

Glimmer fidgets with her bracelet before she knocks, and Bow is already waiting for them. 

There’s a thing about Bow— he’s just so stupidly  _ nice.  _ She and Glimmer got off a rough start, but Bow? She remembers being annoyed at Glimmer and trying to do the same with Bow but he just wouldn’t  _ let _ her. Didn’t take too long for her to give in and, some months later, she was walking around campus with a friendship bracelet on her wrist— two, if she counted Scorpia’s.

The house is even more enchanting on the inside, straight out of a fantasy book. Differing from Glimmer’s, the walls here are filled with maps and artifacts. She makes a note to take a better look at it after. 

Lunch goes easily, after all. Bow’s dads are sweethearts, just like him, and she suddenly gets where all that positive energy comes from. Lance spends the whole meal telling stories about Bow’s childhood— that Glimmer  _ knows, _ because she was there, but Catra doesn’t miss the sparkles in her eyes while she hears it all over again— and George makes more puns than she ever thought it was possible. But that’s on being a dad, she thinks. Catra is quiet, always been like this around new people, but the way they welcome her makes it easier. 

When they’re finished, Lance leaves to find old photo albums, and Bow shrinks into the seat. Glimmer is in a  _ lot  _ of photos, but Catra marks the ones where he has bow and arrows as her favorites— ever.

“You would’ve been an  _ amazing  _ archer,” Lance tugs at Bow’s shoulder.

“Oh, please,” Glimmer retorts, “he almost blinded me once.”

“Everything takes practice.”

Catra laughs, “At least an eye patch would look cool.”

“Very pirate-y,” Bow adds.

That opens another section: Bow’s love for pirates. George and Lance go on and on until Bow is at a point of eating the table. The suggestion for a tour of the library comes in hand and Lance is beaming when they reach the door. 

If she was amazed by what she saw when she first entered the house, she’s awestruck now. The high walls have detailed maps and old newspapers about Bright Moon, photos around it, and piles of books divided by years and parts of town. She didn’t even know a city so small could have so much  _ history.  _

“This is incredible,” she says, fanning herself. She didn’t even realize the air is stuffy in here.

“It was one of my favorite places growing up,” Bow stops in front of a river map. “The stories really get to you.”

“Stories?”

Glimmer appears by her side. “Bright Moon has a lot of legends.”

George and Lance end up leaving them to it, once Bow’s already pointing and talking about the city. Catra stops in front of a painting of a lake, gleaming under the sunlight.

“There’s  _ so  _ many. It’s a weird city, sometimes,” Glimmer says, “I liked the one where the real founder of Bright Moon was a missing princess who found a way for her magic to be ingrained in the city since her real identity had to remain a secret. She gave up her abilities for the city. My aunt used to tell me that every time I saw a rainbow, it was her doing.”

Catra laughs, eyeing the tales’ section of the books. She pulls her hair in a ponytail while analyzing the titles. 

“That’s cheesy.”

“But it’s cute,” Bow completes. 

“I also liked the one about the girl on the hill.” 

Bow shrieks. “That one is too close to reality.”

“You’re  _ afraid?” _

Catra joins them on the couch. Glimmer has a book opened on her lap, several notes hanging between pages. She remembers Bow’s brothers— these books must have been read by all of them.

“What’s the story?”, she asks.

“It’s not that I’m  _ afraid,”  _ Bow starts, “but there’s something weird about it. Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“Tell me.”

“Okay, so. This goes since my mom was a kid. Bright Moon has lots of mountains and hills, but there’s one in specific that people started talking about being haunted. Normally people would look for these places and make picnics or whatever, but this one was never on the list because it wasn’t anything special, you know? Just a normal hill, kinda ugly. But someone built a house up there.”

Bow points to his arms.  _ “Chills, _ literal chills.”

Catra elbows him as Glimmer glares. “Can I finish?”

“Go on.”

“So, everyone was curious about why they chose that hill and some people went up there, to chat with the owners and get a look at the house. They didn’t come back the same. Couldn’t even talk about it afterward, but one of them mentioned that a girl lived there. All by herself. Others followed the lead, but they didn’t come back. People say that it’s the ghost of a girl that was murdered there, many years ago. But, anyway, people don’t just go there.”

Catra blinks. “That’s it? Your scary story?”

“It  _ is  _ scary.”

“How can a ghost build a house—” 

“Is that what you took from the story?”

“Sorry, Sparkles,” she shrugs. “Seen worse.”

Bow scratches his chin. “The house is real. A big one, even. No one has gone up there for a while. Whoever lives there don’t come to town.”

“See,” Glimmer points,  _ “suspicious.” _

“On that side,” Bow adds, “the girl  _ could  _ be real, and just… reclused.”

“If they talked about it when your mom was a kid, that girl is probably  _ old  _ now. Dead even. Or maybe rich people who want a getaway, you never know.”

“Remind me to never let you pick anything for movie night, ever again.”

“I have  _ great  _ taste, okay.” 

Glimmer rolls her eyes, throwing herself on the armrest. Catra takes the book she was reading before, opened at the same image of the lake that’s on the wall.

“It’s a weird story, to say at least,” Bow voices, “and a sad one. Imagine living all  _ alone.” _

“What about this river?” She points to the book. “No tales?”

Glimmer sticks out her tongue. “Gonna let Bow tell you this one.”

His face lightens. “That’s the lake of hope. People say the sun fell on the water, once. Kinda like the princess of Bright Moon thing.”

Catra blinks. There’s a flash on her mind, but it goes away before she can grasp it. 

“That’s cool. Any chances there’s an actual lake made of sunlight here?”

Glimmer sits up. “The river crosses the city but flows to the lake on a farm on the east. It’s just a normal river. With normal water and stuff. It was actually a pretty beautiful place, but it’s not open to the public anymore.”

“How  _ come?”  _

“Whoever owns the farm doesn’t want anybody near it.  _ Those  _ are the rich ass people that don’t come to town.”

Bow looks at her. “Isn’t that the deal that your mom…?”

Catra watches as Glimmer’s shoulders stiffen, glassy eyes running through the room. She props her chin on her hand but still doesn’t look at them.

“Yeah, they were trying to sell it. But it didn’t go well, and she didn’t tell me why. She’s been weird since then.” 

The air is heavy in the room, now, and it’s not due to the velvet curtains and the hot weather. Glimmer’s still looking at the floor and Bow side-eyes Catra, but it’s clear to both of them that Angella is still a complicated subject.

Catra flips through the book, pausing on a painting of a tree. “What about this here?”

At that, Glimmer raises her head. 

“That’s a really cute story, too.”

This time, she almost agrees with Glimmer— but the story ends up being nonsense, so she scratches that. There’s a lot of others after, with Bright Moon being a strange city and all, with lots of creative people, it seems. She still enjoys it, forgetting about the heat for a while— the tales  _ are  _ kind of fun, even if none of them are true. And it’s always good to spend an afternoon with Bow and Glimmer, either way. The sun is already setting when they leave the library.

It doesn’t take long for Bow to get his things and they’re on their way to Glimmer’s house. Apparently, Bow’s dads were going on a trip next week to see Bow’s brothers, spread in the continent. Catra drags her steps through the concrete, taking her time to look at the sky. The pink matches the city, mixing itself with the orange clouds stretched over the houses. Ethereal, almost. There’s a lump on her throat that she doesn’t recognize, but she keeps on walking. 

  
  


“Where are you sleeping?”

Catra looks at the double mattress between the two couches. It’s big enough for her to pretend that she’s sleeping alone, but it’s still just one mattress for Glimmer to kick her on her sleep, or for Bow’s snoring to keep her up all night. She eyes the couch, flower patterns all over it. “There.”

Glimmer looks disconcerted, for a moment.

“I’ll take the mattress, then.”

In reality, there was another guest room for Bow to sleep in, but they agreed on the living room for tonight because, according to Bow, it’s been too long since they had a sleepover. She couldn’t say no.

Catra takes off her shoes, stepping on the carpet, and Glimmer follows her, sitting on the couch.

“That’s my bed.”

“Shut up.”

Her phone screen lights up. There’s a good night text from Scorpia, followed by a lot of emojis, and a selfie of Perfuma and her. She answers quickly, tapping on the app for Instagram next. Frosta sent her some posts, but, other than that, she scrolls impatiently at her feed.

“You’re okay?”

She looks up at Glimmer.

“Yeah,” she says, “why?”

“You seem distressed.”

Catra shrugs. “I’m not really tired.”

Glimmer squints at her, but, before she can make Catra talk about it, there’s a thud that comes from the bathroom, followed by Bow’s complaints— too much of a sweetheart to curse.

“Everything okay there?”, Glimmer raises her voice.

When Bow shows up in the living room, there’s dried paint on his hair. Catra chuckles.

“You have something up here,” she gestures to her own head.

Bow’s eye twitches. “Your house is trying to kill me.”

“That’s like, the whole reason we’re here,” Glimmer grumbles, “just use the bathroom upstairs.”

He leaves, sulking.

Catra turns to Glimmer.

“I think your house has a thing for Bow.”

“Fuck  _ off.”  _ She kicks Catra in the shin. “He distracted me. I was going to ask what’s up with you. I mean, I know you had a bad dream today, but still. If there’s more to it.”

She doesn’t recall giving Glimmer that bit of information, but  _ okay.  _

“I’m fine, just a little jumpy.”

“Jumpy?”

“Yeah. Jumpy.”

She goes back to her Instagram feed. Apparently, Spinnerella had just gotten a new haircut. She’s swiping to the next photo when Glimmer hits her with something— her eyes drop to the keys.

“You can take it for a ride if you want,” Glimmer shrugs, “I know driving usually calms you.”

“How do you  _ know  _ that?”

“You’re less cranky after you drive us somewhere.”

“First,” she raises a finger, “I’m  _ never  _ cranky. Second,” she eyes the corridor, Bow’s figure long gone, “you’re sure it’s okay if I go?”

Glimmer follows her eyes, sighing. Bow probably found the bathroom already, because they can’t hear him anymore.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think he will break any more of the house.” 

Catra knows that’s not what she was asking, but she grins anyways, going for the garage. Angella’s car is not here, and, apparently, it’s not going to be here for a while, since Glimmer put hers in. She fastens her seatbelt, starting the car and getting on the street with ease. Catra’s used to Glimmer’s car, after all, and even more with driving in general.

There’s a slight throbbing on her forehead, but she tries to ignore it. She’s just tired. Her dreams usually tire her out, even if she couldn’t remember them. Her body could, though. But that’s normal— always been like this, always will be. She’s just tired, she tells herself, from driving and cleaning up and walking around in the sun, sleeping in a new place. Even though unclear images pop on the corner of her mind, she ignores them as she races through the street.

Catra learned to drive when she was sixteen— too young, too reckless and too stubborn to actually listen to what Netossa was talking about safety and taking care of the car. She was angry, at the time, at things bigger than herself but she forced herself to learn it and pay attention to the rules and how to change tires so Netossa would finally trust Catra with her car— as much as she appreciated that Netossa would take her for a ride when her chest got heavy, she wanted to be alone, for once. 

She was never reckless, as much as she would want to, sometimes. And, even years later, anger being gone, it’s still what puts her at ease. She wouldn’t admit it to Glimmer, nor she was able to talk about it with Scorpia, but change— it was always a big thing for her. She grew up with few constants: her journal, her stuffed cat, the comfort of her scrappy blue blanket. She never enjoyed the fact that she was always moving, always starting at a new school, always being pushed center into crowd— overwhelmed, holding her breath, and scratching her arms. She tries not to do that anymore but— she drives, instead.

Bright Moon is wicked and sublime at night. Catra feels small, driving through the sinuous streets that seem to change as she moves; the city is quiet now, devoid of the usual chattering and scattered parties around the blocks. Silence was never her favorite thing but she doesn’t turn on the radio, focusing on the low rumble of the engine and rustle of the trees. Her windows are rolled down and night breeze is inviting, to say at least.

Catra lets herself enjoy it. She rolls her shoulders down, breathes out her mouth, and keeps her fingers from tapping the wheel. And she takes her time with it. 

The city pretty much looks all the same. The houses follow a common pattern of light colors, dull against the night sky, but the flowers stand out against every bit of it. Catra takes note of them, but she doesn’t hang enough for it to cause an impression. She’s soon leaving the neighborhood, speeding up a hill as Bright Moon gets smaller and smaller behind her. There will probably be a nice spot on top of it and she had always been fond of high places— always craved for it.

Catra is a good driver, and a careful one. She’s used to driving Netossa’s niece, Frosta, to school events when her parents were busy, and going around the town for Scorpia’s errands. Entrapta said once that her quick thinking was a fundamental part of it but now— Catra almost throws the car off the hill as her eyes burn all of a sudden, blinding light against the windows. She slams the brakes, turning the wheel and the car spins, tires screeching against the asphalt, landing crossed in the middle of the street, and she can’t breathe and know if she accidentally hit someone even though she didn’t feel a hit, because  _ something  _ definitely came out of nowhere and— 

In front of her car, staring at her, there’s a girl— riding a fucking  _ horse,  _ because things couldn’t get weirder. Catra almost rubs her eyes, because it’s so— 

Today’s a full moon, high on the sky and illuminating the road, casting shadows underneath the trees. The flowers glow. Ahead of her, so does the girl. Catra blinks, heart ripping out of her chest and— no, she’s not glowing, but— Catra’s eyes are fast in analyzing the girl in front of her, going from the shoes up until the pale horrified face under the moonlight, and— she blinks again because the girl is reflecting the light. It's gold, the whole thing— the clothes and the shoes and even the girl's hair seems to be golden and Catra is pretty sure she's dreaming right now, because that would be the only explanation for someone who looks like a  _ fucking _ knight to be right here, right now, right in front of her.

But— it's quick. Her breathing is still getting even when the girl pulls the horse's reins and turns back. She runs into the night, a flash of gold, and Catra's left with the girl's petrified look burning behind her eyes. Her hands tremble. Just like that, she's gone, and Catra's alone. She blinks, dark spots on her vision because this is a nightmare, she will wake up and write on her journal and that will be it. But—

Catra pinches herself, counts her fingers, looks at herself in the mirror and she's still here, in the middle of the road marked by her tires. She’s not dreaming, but flashes burn in front of her— gold, beaming like in her dream, reflecting the moonlight, the sky getting dark as she fell, while the girl tried to hold her back up. She chokes— the  _ girl.  _ Waking up screaming as Glimmer ran to her room. Catra shakes her head. She backs up, spins the car again, and exceeds the speed limit until she gets back to Glimmer's house.

She wishes she could forget the girl's face when she goes to sleep. She doesn't.

  
  
  


Catra doesn’t remember the exact moment she got home and crashed, but she wakes up with a sore back and burning pain on her back every time she tries to move. The couch was  _ not  _ a good decision, and, looking back now, for the sake of her back, she could’ve put up with Bow’s snoring— she was so tired she didn’t even dream, for once.

She shouldn’t act surprised that Bow and Glimmer ended up cuddling, but she doesn’t roll her eyes like she once would’ve. Whatever it’s going on between them, Catra feels happy. It’s a sweet thing to wake up to, at least— it takes only a moment for Catra to blink and flashes from last night come to her. The girl, the gold, the almost falling off a cliff— the dream that she did not recall, the way the girl looked horrified at the sight of Catra. She tries to put things together in a more rational way— what would a girl on a  _ horse  _ be doing on top of a hill at midnight? Maybe Catra had imagined the whole thing, though she discards that fast enough. She  _ saw  _ the tires mark on the concrete, even though the girl vanished.

Bright Moon  _ is  _ a strange city.

With the dream’s remains burning bright to her, she gets up from the couch, slowly enough not to wake up Glimmer and Bow, and tiptoes until the bedroom that she was supposed to stay on. The wood creaks underneath her floaty steps, as an old house obviously would, but that doesn’t seem to startle her cuddling friends. Pushing the door slightly, she goes directly to the bedstand, where she had kept her journal, opening on the most recent entry. It’s always difficult to read it the day after— she never had the prettiest handwriting in class, but she did her best for it to be readable, at least. It doesn’t matter, in the end, because writing right after dreams always left the pages smudged, wrinkling sometimes, and she had to squint to try and understand it. On bad days, the pen ripped through the paper as the words spilled off her.

Catra vaguely recalls the scream on her throat as her fingers touch the hole on the paper. 

It’s messy, but it’s there, as she tries to remember— the perfect meadow in a hidden paradise, along with the searching, the golden girl, and the falling. Her head throbs and she should definitely have taken some medicine last night, but she can’t stop reading. Sometimes, her dreams fascinated her; just how much her mind could create and make her believe in that. There was even a time in which she had attempted to make good use of that and write something  _ other  _ than just dream reports, and that captivated her teacher. But now— she feels sick to her stomach, waves of feelings coming back to her at once. It’s cruel for the universe to give her something that seems so real and take it back at the last minute, only to reveal that it existed only in her mind— and, still, she has to live through the consequences of it as if it had been real.

The after hurts, so she drops the journal on the bed and tries to steady her breath. Inhaling, holding in, and exhaling, like Perfuma does with her when she’s spending the night and Catra happens to have one of those— not like she’s really proud of that, still. She tries to make the logical way out of it: the girl reminded of her dream, and that was it. Her dreams were always painful, so that leaves her here; whatever the girl was doing or whoever she is, dressed in gold like a knight, doesn’t matter to Catra— it was just a reaction.

Catra places her journal inside the drawer and makes her way downstairs for her phone. Glimmer’s still sleeping, despite Bow’s snoring not getting any lower. She checks the time: nine in the morning. Later than she usually wakes up, but she’s supposed to be on  _ vacation.  _ The morning light is a good look at the living room furnished with dark wood, along with the cream curtains that try to filter it. Dust flies where the sun hits and Catra knows that, if they don’t clean the room soon, her allergies will start acting up.

She opens the notes app and puts  _ cleaning  _ on one file. Moving to another, she writes about her reaction and the logical reasons behind it. Normally, the notes app wasn’t her go-to, but it’s too early to text Scorpia knowing that, if she ends up seeing it, she will call Catra right away, and Catra’s not sure she can talk about it right now— she’s still trying to process it. Plus, she knows Perfuma slept over and she doesn’t want to be a nuisance to them; she will call Scorpia in the afternoon. But, as her stomach growls, so she settles on looking around the kitchen for something to eat.

Catra gets an apple and looks over the kitchen window. She’s distracted enough to jump when something suddenly jolters behind her. 

“Fuck,” she lets out, staring at Glimmer, “you scared me.”

“I’m  _ stretching.  _ Ugh, that mattress is the worst. Remind me why we couldn’t sleep in beds like normal people?”

“You and Bow are softies.”

“I  _ hate  _ it.”

“You don’t, Sparkles.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, but grunts at it.

“What are you even doing up, anyway?” She tries to reach her toes but stops midway. “I didn’t even see you getting back last night.”

“Eh, I didn’t take long, but you guys were already knocked out when I got here.”

“You can sleep more if you want to,” she moves to one of the counters, grabbing a mug. “Today the construction guys won’t be here until noon. Until then, no loud noises.”

Bow’s still snoring in the living room. Catra takes note of the kitchen— dark wood, like every other corner of the house, but she kinda likes that. It gives certain coziness and warmth, something Catra could really use, always. She wonders what are the plans for the house, but her brain is still waking up for her to ask about it, especially knowing that Glimmer is not a fan of chit chat first thing in the morning. Later, she will— and that later involves the coffee that Glimmer is making right now.

She stretches out her own arms while Glimmer hums at herself. Catra doesn’t recognize the song.

“You,” she drawls, “are awfully chatty today.”

Glimmer turns her head slightly. “Uh?”

“You heard me.”

“I’m doing my usual amount of talking.”

“Please. Your morning behavior consists of grunts, groans, and eventual snapping.”

The smell of coffee doesn’t take long to spread through the kitchen. Catra gets another mug from the counter and stares as she realizes it’s one with a picture of Glimmer and  _ best girl ever!  _ written above it.

“Your major isn’t psychology, you know.”

“I’m just being open,” she chimes, “and communicative. Non-violent communication and all of that.”

Glimmer doesn’t even turn to look at Catra, shaking her head instead.

“While dragging the attention to something other than yourself. How clever.”

“Who’s the psychology major now?”

She gives her mug to Glimmer, who fills it with not so steady hands and slides it back to her. She takes it like that, bitterness is familiar on her tongue, while Glimmer scrunches her nose and pours sugar into her mug. 

“That ruins it.”

“It  _ doesn’t.” _

Bow’s snoring gets louder. Catra sips again, eyes fixating on the chipped counter. She pretends she doesn’t see the way Glimmer looks at her, and then at the living room, and then at her again.

“We  _ talked—” _

Catra quirks her eyebrows. “For real?”

“No, like. We talked about my mom. And he talked about his dads. And I feel a little lighter, that’s it.”

“I didn’t know if you would want to talk about it yesterday,” she confesses, “so I didn’t ask.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t.” Glimmer places her mug on the sink. “Just happened, I guess. You know, with his dads going to travel soon and stuff. Came up. Plus, not much to talk about. My mom is a big thing now and it just ends up taking a lot of space in her life, and she  _ somehow  _ gets the most difficult clients. I swear I saw silver on her head.”

Catra’s not sure what she can say with her brain operating at half the potential, but she’s also not sure Glimmer wants to hear something. It’s tricky, sometimes. So, she props her head on her chin and mumbles: “That  _ sucks.” _

Glimmer laughs, looking at her cellphone. “Yeah. But, whatever. I was thinking of finishing up those boxes today and cleaning the living room. There’s another week until we start the renovations inside but I don’t wanna be late.”

“Your mom left you a calendar or something?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Works for me.” Catra gets up. “Not like I had plans on the city that I’ve never been to and only know two people, y’know?”

“Who knows,” Glimmer shrugs, “you didn’t meet anyone last night?”

“I went for a  _ drive.  _ On a Thursday. _ ” _

“Lots of places open on a Thursday.”

“Did you see what I was wearing? I could pull it off, obviously, but  _ still _ —” 

“Oh, please, you  _ know  _ that I keep a spare dress on the back.”

“I don’t do dresses.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes— apparently, that’s all she does when talking to Catra.

“You brought me here to hook me up with someone or whatever?”

“No, jackass. But it could be, y’know, fun. Girls here are  _ really  _ pretty.”

“Okay, you know what,” she gets up, laying her mug in the sink, “I can’t have this conversation right now. It’s too  _ early  _ for this.”

“Just saying, I have some friends here—”

Catra drags her hands on her face. “I don’t need for you to set me up, God, you’re offending  _ me  _ and my dating life.”

Bow is starting to wake up, Catra realizes as the snoring stops suddenly. If he decides to join them, she will be hearing about how she needs to  _ get herself out there  _ and  _ try again.  _ And, as much as she cherishes her friends and their concern for her well being, she will avoid the conversation until her last breath.

“You are,” Glimmer starts, huffing, “so  _ fucking  _ dramatic.” 

But she’s already racing through the stairs. “I try my best, Sparkles.”


	2. wrong turn

Catra sees it happening in slow motion: she sits on the couch, laptop to her side while on the phone with one of her students. She goes through the basic questions he had for her, feet resting on the coffee table that’s free of old boxes now— the last week had been devoted to cleaning up, and, even though she’s still sore, there’s fulfillment on her chest at that sight. They’re removing the wallpaper from the living room and painting it, so the floor is all cramped up the wallpaper remains and paint cans; it’s as messy as a house going through renovations could get, but, at ten in the morning while people are working on the backyard, it’s the place with less noise.

There’s a can right outside the kitchen’s entrance and Glimmer has always been one to not watch her steps. On the counter side, Bow, bouncing in his steps down the stairs. Glimmer is looking directly at the wall, and Bow is looking at his phone, of course. And, even though Catra lowers her phone to say, “There’s a can over there,” Glimmer doesn’t pay attention, and neither does Bow. She steps on it, falling directly to the ground, and Bow’s not fast enough to get her and stop paint from falling all over the floor.

Catra snickers. 

_“Fuck,”_ Glimmer curses, “why did _no one_ tell me this thing was here?”

“Ugh, there’s paint _everywhere.”_

“My mom is going to kill me. I’m basically dead already.”

Bow lifts the can. The paint mostly splashed on the walls and their clothes; Glimmer’s jumpsuit has now tiny green dots against the jeans. She doesn’t curse loudly this time, but Catra supposes that’s just because she’s on the phone. Manners, after all.

“Yes, you can call me in the afternoon if you have any more doubts,” says Catra. Bow eyes her. “Good luck with it and let me know how it goes.”

Catra doesn’t take long to say goodbye to her student and, as soon as the call is over, she turns to Glimmer, “You have to stop cursing when I’m on the phone, y’know. I’m gonna get a bad reputation.”

 _“You’re_ the one who curses on the phone,” Bow accuses, hands on the side of his face— also with paint. His green shorts are now spattered with dots just like Glimmer’s, but the dots actually match the tone on his clothes. Of course, Bow was going to be the one pulling that off.

“You know what?” Glimmer says, hands on her hips while she looks at the paint. “Maybe green just _isn’t_ the right color.”

“I think it looks good. Green is a beautiful color. ”

Catra gets up, shrugging. “At least it didn’t get in the wood. That would be a bitch.”

The can land on old newspapers sprawled against the floor, even though they ended up soaked. Catra starts to fold them, getting the excess back to the can. Bow follows her.

“Did everything go well with your student?”

“Yeah,” she replies, “he was writing an essay and had some questions. I told people they could call me if they ever needed it.”

“Requested, I see.” Bow smiles. “I am _proud.”_

When she takes the last piece of the newspaper, confirming that the paint did _not_ spread to the floor, she sags her shoulders in relief.

“What can I say? I have a reputation, despite Glimmer’s efforts,” she dismisses and Bow rolls his eyes. It was meant to tease Glimmer but, besides Bow’s chuckle— and the constant noise of things being hit— there’s silence in the living room.

Glimmer is standing with arms crossed, facing the scraped wall like she could demolish it with her eyes only. Bow looks at Catra, and then at Glimmer again.

“What are we looking at?” she tries.

“Aunt Casta said blue would be better. My _mom_ said green. _But_ green is kinda hideous.” She considers, hand scratching her chin. “Blue _could_ work. Maybe turquoise. I should call her.” Glimmer turns to Catra, then. “By the way, did you call Scorpia? Perfuma texted me something about it.”

She _hadn’t,_ in fact. Catra raises her eyebrows and looks at her phone. “I forgot. So many things in my head this past week.”

“Don’t stress yourself. This is supposed to be _fun!_ ”

Bow chokes behind her, an arm coming around Glimmer’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” she snorts, looking at Glimmer’s clenched jaw, _“fun.”_

“This is just an important wall, okay? We’re hanging all the framed pictures here. It has to like, pop.”

“I feel like I’m watching Property Brothers.”

 _“Why,”_ Bow drawls, “would you bring that up?”

Glimmer drops her head to her hands, sighing. By her side, Bow tugs her at the shoulder. “As you said, this is supposed to be fun. We’ll help you choose the color, don’t worry.”

Catra kicks her playfully in the shin. She assumes that Glimmer knows the difference.

“Why don’t you call your aunt, talk to her about it, and we drop it for now? We can go, I don’t know, eat out since we didn’t really do that yet.”

“Catra’s right. There’s this place that I passed on my way over here that looks _so_ cool.”

Glimmer shots at her. “Will you call Scorpia? She must be worried about you. Or something.”

“She probably misses you,” says Bow. “You two have the _cutest_ friendship.”

“You’re using the c word with me,” she points, already grabbing her phone. “And I don’t like it.”

He smiles. “You’re making me do it.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, but she’s already rambling about the last architecture magazine she read in a second, and Catra’s already moving to the kitchen, phone unlocked and Scorpia’s picture staring at her. She would pick up in an instant and Catra could tell her about the dream, maybe about the girl. It would be easy, and she would go back to the living room and annoy Glimmer some more. 

But still— her thumb hovers around the call button for three seconds before she shoves the phone back on her pocket.

  
  
  


Catra doesn’t call Scorpia; at least not right after that. She’s been purposefully avoiding it, knowing exactly what she was doing — she'd made sure to respond to every message and send daily texts, but actually letting Scorpia see her and hear her voice? Not happening that fast. 

She had been getting better at not dodging from any chance of opening herself up, but this wasn’t a matter of her feelings only. Bright Moon is a weirder town than she expected a first. She doesn’t know _how_ to tell Scorpia that she had a dream about a girl who was bathed in gold and then almost ran over a girl dressed in gold without sounding crazy— she’s _sure_ she’s not out of her mind, but _still_. If she calls Scorpia, she knows she will talk about the whole coincidence— and if she says it out loud, it might make more sense, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that. 

None of her thoughts make sense right now. She states the obvious, and tries to link the facts: she hasn’t dreamed since the day in the hill. It could be just shock, anxiety. Or— 

Catra dials Scorpia’s number.

She picks up on the second ring.

 _“Hey, Wildcat!”_ exclaims Scorpia on the other side of the line. _“I’ve been meaning to call you!”_

“Yeah, me too. Wanted to call you, I mean.”

_“How are things there? Bright Moon seems like such a nice city.”_

“Yeah,” she gulps, mouth bitter, “very nice. It’s actually really beautiful. There’s a _lot_ of flowers, so you and Perfuma _have_ to come to the city someday.”

_“A road trip… that sounds fun, really, but do you think Perfuma would like it? I mean, I’m not a really good driver, but maybe I could make her a playlist!”_

“A playlist sounds really good, Scorpia.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “And I bet she’ll you love whatever you guys decide to do. She’s like, head over heels for you.”

_“You really think so? Ah— I’m getting distracted here. Glimmer told me you couldn’t sleep when you got there. Did you have a dream?”_

Catra stares at her toenails— painted black by Bow. Although Scorpia’s never been the most straightforward, she sure knew how to corner Catra. Her journal rests on her bed stand, but she doesn’t open it.

“Yeah, actually. It was pretty heavy. But I’m okay. I think I’m just anxious in general, y’know?”

_“Did you tell Glimmer and Bow?”_

She scrunches her nose. “They don’t know.”

_“Oh.”_

“Yeah.”

_“You never thought about telling them?”_

Catra thinks about the girl glowing under the moonlight, about the tales of magic in Bright Moon and a haunted house. These things don’t exist, she tries to tell herself. But her mind doesn’t wrap itself around it; her mouth tastes bitter at the thought of dropping it.

“Maybe. But not now, I think? I told her it was a bad dream, but not much detailing.”

_“That’s something! You’ll get there— I mean, if you want to, of course.”_

“I know.” It’s half a whisper. Then, she adds, “Thank you.”

The thing about her friendship with Scorpia is that it’s easy in a way that she can’t quite explain. She doesn’t know how they ended up in the same path— Scorpia’s always been too pure for her own good, and Catra’s never been really careful about her and the others around. But Scorpia was determinate and patient, and Catra was trying her best to give it back. It worked, somehow. It still works, given that Catra’s not afraid to spill her feelings to Scorpia— or, at least, not all the _time._

She lets Scorpia talk about her week, her plans with Perfuma, and with the rest of her friends. More like Glimmer’s friends, but she lets that pass. Scorpia’s always been good on keeping the conversation flowing, and Catra follows and tells all she knows about Bright Moon until now — keeping out the weird tales, that’s for _later—_ until she mentions they’re going out. According to Glimmer, the city has the best bars ever, and, although she doesn’t entirely trust Glimmer’s taste for this stuff, she might as well give it a try.

When she hangs up, her chest feels a teensy lighter.

  
  
  


Bow drives them this time. Catra considers, then, the veracity of Glimmer’s _theory_ that she gets less cranky after driving, because Bow is too careful of a driver, too _slow_ and she’s already impatient on her seat when they arrive— plus, being on the backseat means watching Glimmer, Bow and their tension for the whole ride. It’s more dramatic than Catra anticipated.

It’s a warm night; Catra’s glad she chose a short-sleeved blouse, otherwise, she would already be sweating. The ponytail was Glimmer’s doing, as _always,_ but it’s better than pooled around her neck— it might not be _hot,_ but the pub is small and there are more people than she would’ve thought for a small city like Bright Moon. She walks beside Bow as they enter, slow beats reaching her ears as she takes in the place. It’s cozy, warm colors matching the night sky outside, though she can’t quite see it anymore. Her eyes travel to the people, dragging through the moving bodies, tuffs of colorful hair here and there, laughter flowing euphoric amongst them in a way that matches the city.

Catra had expected Bright Moon to be a small, conservative town, where she would probably have to endure a few dirty looks here, stop herself from looking too much there. But it’s something else, really; she feels light, at the same time that the tales Glimmer told them still creeps at her neck— she doesn’t know what else the city has to offer.

They settle for a booth, ordering fries, even though Glimmer’s already getting up to the bar.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” Bow shakes his head.

Glimmer scowls. On the low light, her purple hair glows with pink undertones. “It’s fine, I'll take it easy.”

“It’s not good for your kidneys—”

“—My kidneys are fine, okay?”

Bow squints. “One drink.”

Catra’s shoulder shakes slightly as Glimmer walks away. When she looks at Bow again, he’s rolling his eyes.

“I knew she was stressed,” he starts, “but I’m starting to get worried.”

“No need to,” Catra shrugs. She taps her short nails on the table— there’s a little crescent moon on the napkin holder, carved in the wood. “It’s not like she’s getting wasted, anyway.”

She doesn’t complete with _not after Mermista’s_ — given Bow’s glare, he won’t be very happy to know it. _If_ he doesn’t know it yet.

Bow throws his head back on the seat, chain glimmering around his neck. “If she throws up, you’re the one that’s taking care of her.”

She smirks. “We _both_ know that’s not true.”

“Glimmer’s right. You _are_ cranky when you don’t drive.”

Catra throws one of the napkins at him.

“Fuck off.” A pause, raising her eyebrows. “And you heard _that?_ The walls must be pretty thin.”

“I have really good hearing.”

“That’s because you snore.”

He gaps. “I do _not._ And what does my hearing have to do with this?”

“You know,” she shrugs, gesturing to her ears and nose, “you don’t breathe here, you hear too much over there, everything’s connected. It’s science.”

Bow stares at her, and she does her best not to laugh at his face. When he looks away from Catra, suddenly, she follows his eyes to see that they stopped at Glimmer’s figure at the bar. Catra looks at him— the lamp accentuates the angles on his face as he faces forward, jawline standing out. There’s something in his eyes that aches at the same time that adores. She drags her eyes until Glimmer— it’s almost like she felt it because she turns to wave to them. There’s a second in which her eyes land on Bow that makes Catra look away, all of the sudden. It’s too intimate, too private, and, when she gathers forces to turn her head back, she concludes that there’s no other place that matches the two of them like Bright Moon— whatever’s happening between them fits the air hanging heavy around the city.

She keeps her eyes down for some time, still.

“You will not _believe_ who I just met,” chants Glimmer as she slides next to Catra, but she looks at Bow. “Remember Lonnie? She left the city when we were like, in fifth grade or something.”

Bow raises his brows. “She’s back in town?”

“Yeah.” Glimmer turns, pointing with her chin. “She’s right there, super changed and all. I wonder what she did after she left.”

“Which one is her?” asks Catra, eyeing the bar not so subtly. 

“The one in green.”

Catra raises her head to find that the girl—Lonnie— is already looking at her. She glares sideways at Glimmer; God knows what Glimmer had told her about Catra already. But she’s pretty, that she admits— intense eyes, locks reaching just above her naked shoulder, black ink coming from the back of her neck. And Catra gets curious.

“You want me to hook up with her, don’t you?”

Glimmer pretends to be surprised. “Well, I _might_ have mentioned you, but—”

“She was nice,” Bow interjects, “I guess. Don’t remember it very well.”

“Bow!”

“What? I can’t _lie.”_

Catra pushes her bangs out of her face. Last time she had hooked up with a girl, she had spent the following semester ignoring her every time their paths crossed on campus— which was a _lot,_ considering they had the same major. It had been fun, but that was it. She didn’t know what to do when the girl _actually_ wanted something more; Catra still blames Glimmer for being the one to point her to the girl, saying that she looked nice and claiming that she had an eye for romance. 

But, _still,_ Catra breathes out and walks to the bar. Not like she’ll be in Bright Moon forever. So she tries her luck, crossing the pub while the slow beats of the song make her head throb. It’s not a song that fits the mood, exactly, too stretched out for a summer night and too sultry for a packed pub this small. Weird, really, but she tries to not think about all the strangeness that surrounds everything around here. When she gets to the bar, Lonnie’s eyes are still on her.

“Hey,” she lowers her tone.

A beat. “Hi.”

“I’m Catra.”

“Glimmer had a lot to say about you,” she says. “You _really_ don’t seem the type to hang out with her.”

Catra places her elbow on the counter. “College opens our horizons and this type of shit.”

“I see. You’re not from here, are you?”

“Not really, no.”

“Just passing by?”

“A summer couldn’t hurt, right?”

She’s almost annoyed by the smug look on Lonnie’s face, but she bites that back. Her eyes trail to the back of her neck, black lines creeping under her hair, indistinguishable on the low light, as she takes a shot of whatever the bartender had just given to her.

“How are you enjoying the city, so far?”

This is going down rails.

“Really nice, actually,” she waves. “Though I haven’t really done much yet.”

Lonnie stops, looks at her, raised eyebrows. Catra’s definitely annoyed now, but it bubbles when Lonnie says, “You remind me so much of someone. Can’t really get a grasp on who.”

“It’s a shame that this is going to be your impression of me.”

“I don’t think it will.” 

She turns to the bartender, ordering one more drink. Catra hasn’t had anything that wasn’t soda since she got here— suddenly, she wishes she had gone with Glimmer when they first arrived.

“There’s a place,” Lonnie says, “I think you would like it there. But _don’t_ bring company.”

Catra almost shivers, thinking of all the possibilities to a place where she’s obligated to go alone— invited by a _stranger—_ , but Lonnie hands her a grey card, a stamped red symbol on the back. There are no words written on it, but Lonnie is already scribbling an address on the napkin and handing it to her.

“Next Saturday, at eight o’clock. You just need to show them this when you arrive, then you’re in.”

“Sounds really... exclusive.”

Her tone is firm. “It is.”

“And you still invite me, just like this?”

Lonnie’s eyes take longer on her, now. There’s something behind them that Catra knows it’s not lust, desire, or anything in between. Lonnie’s not interest in her, she concludes. But something definitely sparked her attention.

“I have a feeling that you might be the perfect fit.” She goes on saying she has to go somewhere else, but Catra’s not listening. There’s a glimpse of being a formal party, but Catra’s eyes are still stuck on the card, her fingers brushing the red symbol that she knows for _sure_ she has seen before.

When Lonnie leaves, Catra sees the symbol tattooed on the back of her neck.

  
  


Catra wondered, sometimes, why the city was called Bright Moon. It always seemed too cheesy, straight out of a fantasy novel— judging by the way Glimmer talked about it, that seemed to be the case. But she gets it now, looking at the sky, full moon illuminating the whole field, shadow cast behind her. Starts try to pop, but how could they, when the moon has taken the entire sky? She doesn’t even try to pay attention, to look better, and name the constellations— they don’t matter today. Instead, she drops her head back, like the moonlight could reach and burn her. 

She would let it, anyway.

It’s a quiet night; pleasant weather, soft breeze on her hair. The soles of her feet are deep into the grass, but she doesn’t mind. It’s exhilarating— Catra feels like she could run a marathon under torrent rain if the moon keeps bathing her like this. She closes her eyes, let her shoulders sway and shudder as she takes in the moment. Between trying to graduate and tutoring on free days, there wasn't much time left for things like this. Sometimes, she would rest her head on the window and fall asleep trying to watch the stars, only to have Scorpia wake her in the middle of the night— didn’t matter in the end. The skyscrapers were too high, pollution hanging between Catra and the stars. 

But here— it was endless. She could breathe in and not cough right after, sink her feet into the ground, and wait for time to become irrelevant. There’s a sea of possibilities at the same time she can just choose to not do anything, and she closes her eyes as flowers seem to curl to reach the moon— she wouldn’t be surprised if they did, actually.

Catra keeps her eyes closed. If Bow and Glimmer get out here and see her like this, she knows Bow will be insufferable afterward, but she figures it might be worth it— and he could let it go if she asked nicely. She hears grass rustling getting near her, and she supposes it’s already too late for her to scowl and pretend to not enjoy it.

When Catra opens her eyes, she realizes she’s dreaming.

The girl with golden hands stands beside her, but she doesn’t look at Catra. Her blue eyes are wide and focused on the moon like they could absorb it at any given moment. The moonlight embraces her figure, but she doesn’t glow— there’s not any gold on her tonight, hands recoiled against her flowing dress. Catra lets her eyes wander for a moment; the girl is barefoot, like her, the hem of the dress reaching her knees. No sun rays are falling from the sky now; Catra wonders what will make it burn this time.

The girl turns to look at her. Something feels off, but Catra can’t place it— would it be the way her shoulders seem to not hold themselves properly? The way that her cheekbones pop in an almost lethal way, and Catra feels her cheek blush at the thought of a cut? Or maybe, even, the way she holds her body like it wasn’t hers. Catra doesn’t think they’ve ever seen each other that up close. She could wake up and map the girl’s face if she liked to.

Wake _up—_ cause this is a dream. Catra’s dreaming right now, but she’s not sure she’s ever been this conscious of a dream before. A fantasy of her own mind— this girl doesn’t exist when she wakes up, not even when she bares scars in the morning light, not even when— 

She turns, too. 

Nothing changes. The girl keeps on giving her a soft, too intimate look. 

“Who are you?” Catra asks, tone firm even though there’s no noise to disturb them. And even if it did, she’s dreaming— she can make it stop.

The girl tilts her head. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“You’re not answering me?”

“If you do the same for me,” she raises an eyebrow, “maybe.”

Catra clenches her jaw. If it’s her dream, why can’t she get _answers?_ She tries thinking about it, imagining the girl answering all the questions she has ever had, but when she opens her eyes, the girl still looks amused.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that I might want answers too?”

Catra looks around. The moon is still up in the sky, watching them, and the ground still stands firm under her toes, no signs of falling anytime soon. It’s not going away— there might be some power on her hands, after all.

She tries it.

“What answers do you want?”

The girl stares at the moon again, then back at her. 

“I want to know you.”

“You _know_ me,” Catra rushes without a second thought.

“Do I really?”

Catra’s not sure if it’s possible to know someone through dreams, but she knows that, somehow, this girl has a hold of everything she is— whether she wants it or not.

She lifts a hand to touch Catra’s cheek, but it never does. Instead, it hovers, trembling, and suddenly there’s a scream stuck on Catra’s throat because this is worse than the burning. She prefers the burn— she wants it, now.

 _Not real_ , she remembers. _You’re dreaming._

“Yes,” she whispers. “You’re not real. You know me because my mind created you. I’m dreaming.”

The girl widens her eyes slightly. Her hands are behind her back now, and, when she steps forward and leans, her hair falls between them. Golden, of course. Like the last dream she had, like— 

She smiles. Catra shivers, but it’s not cold. The air sits still around them as if time and space had collapsed around each other. Nothing moves, and she’s still breathing.

“I know you’re dreaming. I am too.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She waits for the moment when the ground will begin to crumble and the sky will rip her body apart, but the girl drops her head, look at her hands, and Catra sees it. The gold spreads from her palm, slowly, reaching her fingers and her wrists. Instead of watching it go up to her arms, Catra sees the golden veins underneath the pale skin of the girl’s arm. The gold burns, she remembers— but she still reaches to grab the girl’s hands.

The girl shudders when they touch.

“How come this is happening if it isn’t raining?”

It keeps spreading, but everything is still around them. Quiet, even, gentle wind around them, stars glimmering around the moon. The gold drips on Catra’s toes and it burns again. It won’t ever stop burning, but the girl stands before her completely hopeless as gold starts to spread from her chest. It shouldn’t glow under the moonlight, but it _does_ , and it’s a dream and it shouldn’t kick Catra in the stomach, but she lands on her knees anyway.

“You can’t stop it,” the girl mumbles. “There’s no way.”

“It’s my _dream._ I can make this stop, it’s hurting you!”

She wonders, vaguely, what drove her mind to create this girl. Where did her image come from— was it someone Catra once saw, but with accentuated features designed for perfection? Was it created from scratch, just her brain trying out until it was right, ready to haunt Catra for the rest of her life? She’s too perfect, she thinks, too angelical and too pure but she still bleeds gold around them, grass getting stiff as it pools around their feet. She tries steadying her breathing— Catra didn’t even know she was breathing fast. 

It doesn’t stop, but it doesn’t go all the way. Catra lets go, hands burning red and gold at the same time, and the girl looks like she was bathed in pure gold. Her dress remains, though, stained, contrasting against the glowing skin that reaches her shoulders. What started on her chest stopped on her chin, curling up until her cheekbone and staying there. She doesn’t seem to be in pain, though not quite at peace— resigned, somehow.

“Why can’t I stop it? Why can’t I take it back?”

The girl raises her hand and they never reach Catra. They don’t touch, even though it’s a dream, even though she will wake up and there will be no scar behind, no phantom of the gold that ever melted on her skin. But the girl doesn’t reach, and it aches.

“It’s only a dream. You can wake up.”

“I don’t _want_ to.”

“Wake _up,”_ a plead.

“I want to stop this.”

It’s her dream and she wants it to stop— but it doesn’t, so she wants the burn. Catra’s not sure that’s it’s her thinking that gets the girl to cup her face and presses her forehead against Catra’s, hands falling to Catra’s neck. It leaves a trace of gold that Catra doesn’t mind. The wind is starting to get violent, but she doesn’t want to wake up— she wants to never have known that it was a dream in the first place. She wants to know why it burns if it’s only a fantasy, why does the girl look like she’s falling apart if nothing was holding her together in the first place.

She wants, but it’s not enough. 

“Wake up,” she whispers again and then dissolves into Catra’s arms.

  
  


“I think it looks good.”

Bow looks up from his phone, hand on his chin. “Red is _your_ color.”

Lonnie had said formal, but it’s not like Catra packed for it. Bow had dug into his stuff and Catra — reluctantly— agreed to let them help her get ready. Glimmer settled for some eyeliner only; after an incident on freshman year involving eyeshadow, allergies, and a white blouse, she never dared to suggest a makeover again. Now, she’s more careful, and Catra likes the result. It ties with the fitted dress pants and a blazer thrown over her black sleeveless turtleneck— as formal as she could get with a bag packed for a summer renovating an old house.

“You look _really_ good,” Glimmer appears by her side. “Your date is gonna love it!”

“Not a date,” she mumbles.

Bow drops his phone and sits on the bed; there are clothes piled up all around him that she knows he’s dying to fold, ever the organized.

“How does she wants to take you somewhere fancy and… not be a date?”

“I don’t think she meant it like that. She didn’t even give me her phone number.”

Glimmer raises her eyebrows. “And did you ask for it?”

“Fuck _off.”_

“Not your finest moment.”

She joins Bow on the bed and Catra turns to look at them. Her profile looks even better on this outfit, but it’s not like she’s going to pose in front of the mirror now.

“I wasn’t even going to go, okay?”

“Wouldn’t blame you,” Bow mutters under his breath.

“Bow!”

“God, what did she even do to you?”

Bow almost initiates a monologue, but Glimmer shoves him. She plays with the hem of her jeans when she speaks, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. Totally okay. Swear.”

Her thumb touches the card in her pocket. She’s traced it times enough for the symbol to be present on her mind right now— along with the tattooed version on Lonnie’s neck. She knew it, somehow. Had spent the last week trying to remember where she could’ve possibly seen it, but her mind went blank. There was nothing in her journals, but that had been a wild guess. Still, the thought hadn’t left her mind and she wasn’t ready for it too. It was better than— 

Well.

“Don’t worry,” she brushes it off. “It could be very fun. Plus, open bar and all. You can’t say no to that.”

She glances at Bow. “True, I guess.”

“I just hope there’s like, AC.” She lets the fabric slides down on her arms, looking at the mirror one last time. “This blazer is _thick_.”

“Yeah, but it covers those scars.”

She stops. The turtleneck covers most of it, but fine lines are going to the edge of her shoulders yet. Fading, almost, but they’re there. Catra waves a hand at her face, burning hot all of a sudden. 

“They don’t look so bad.”

“They’re _okay_ ,” Bow says. “You can’t even see them from here.”

Catra can.

“Plus, it builds personality. Oh, this?” He flexes his arms. “I was _building_ a house and got hurt. Very badass.”

“I wasn’t _building_ a house,” she laughs; or tries to.

“They don’t know that.”

She knows her smile is awkward, but she can’t help the distort on her face. Catra remembers being nine and waking up to bruises all over her arms. At the time, she didn’t really mind, didn’t really remembered the dream she had on the night before, but her teacher alarmed the entire school on the matter of her safety. She had stuttered to say that it wasn’t her uncle doing’s, but she still couldn’t articulate that it had been because of a dream. No one would believe her— she didn’t believe herself, not even as the years went by and scars continued to show up. Never stayed for long, though, but were still a pain in the ass when it came to trying not to alarm people. So, she did what she knew how to— told Glimmer and Bow that it had been an accident, her skin had been sensitive, too much sun, something fell on her and the rest was history.

There was no way of saying that she had dreamed of gold melting on her shoulders and woke up nauseous, skin burning hot under her own touch. That she had spent three hours locked in the bathroom trying to put it together while she traced the marks on her skin. That she couldn’t admit it out loud what had happened inside her head, of all things. The list for people that know about the scars is empty, and she doesn’t have plans of changing it anytime soon.

Catra blinks, shrugging. “Scars are sexy.”

Bow rolls his eyes as Glimmer laughs. The sun had set for some time now, the sky starting to fade from purple to blue. She checks the time on her phone, and, if she was going to trust the maps app on her phone on the address, it was going to take a while to get there— apparently, it was a ranch away from the city, but still on Bright Moon’s territory. Maybe not her best decision to go to the middle of nowhere just because she has her mind on something, but she had been around Bow and Glimmer’s stupid ideas for a while now, and at least she would be driving. Easy to speed down the street in case something happens.

“Please don’t destroy my car.”

She gets in and closes her door, fastening her seatbelt. Glimmer leans on the doorframe.

“And if anything happens, call us. Like, right away.”

“I will be okay, Sparkles.” She rolls down the windows. “Just a party, alright? Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I’ll try my best,” Glimmer snickers. 

It doesn’t take long, but she tries to enjoy the ride, even if she keeps checking her phone for the right route every five minutes. She hadn’t had the chance to wander to this side of the city yet and maybe now’s a good time for that. The hills are left far behind but the trees are closer here, taller— Catra looks up to see white dots between the rustling leaves. Her eyes advert back on the road when she remembers the dream; not the time to think about it.

She lets Bow’s bubblegum pop playlist distract her, bobbing her head to the rhythm— thank _God_ they’re not here with her now, or she would never live past it. But, considering that the asphalt had just ended and she needed to drive through mud, she figures there wouldn’t be much life left out. She makes a note to wash it before Glimmer wakes up.

When she reaches the place, the gates are wide open. She advances carefully, taking note of the dark gold— whoever owns this it’s loaded, especially given all the other expensive cars parked around the ranch. There’s still time to go back, but she looks at her dress pants, adjusts her hair in the mirror, and steps out. It’s _hot,_ but she keeps her blazer on, for now, at least, making her way to the entrance. The moon is not full tonight, but it still illuminates the way— a blessing, really, given the only light she can see comes from inside the ranch.

Catra drags her eyes by it while she walks. It’s bigger than she imagined it, taller, even, walls reaching until the trees. She raises the hem of the pants until she’s out of the grass, already taking the card out of her pocket when she reaches the massive doors. Two security guards are upfront, arms behind their bodies while scanning whoever gets here. A couple enters before her; she tries not to gape at the jewelry carved on the woman’s dress — more than she has ever seen on a person before— that she flaunts with such ease, despite Catra’s guesses that it must be a heavy dress.

She shakes her head. People don’t greet her, so she follows that, showing her card and waiting for them to let her enter.

She was right in keeping the gape for later. The door opens to a dark, dim lighted corridor that leads to a wide salon with high walls and glass chandeliers. It’s fancier than anything Catra has ever seen, considering that she once to a party by Glimmer’s family and that had been her definition of luxury. The place is big enough for not to be sultry; the night breeze flows nicely inside, and Catra shivers— though she’s not sure if it’s because it’s cold or because too much money in a place like this can’t be a good thing.

Her eyes drop to the floor and she scans her surroundings. It’s not packed, but there’s a _lot_ of people. High columns rise to the ceiling, traits of gold on them, and Catra spots waiters here and there, though she can’t exactly see a buffet or anything. Still, the salon opens to other rooms, and there are even stairs on one of its sides. Catra can almost see hints of the second floor, and, even if she’s tempted to explore, she focuses on walking around. Up until now, she had been tracing on her mind a standard profile on what it meant for someone to be from Bright Moon and she had already seen a lot of people on the streets, but this place throws everything on the trash. No one here looks like someone she could easily spot on the street— she’s pretty sure she had never seen any of these people before.

There are a lot of complicated outfits if that’s what she can call it. A lot of gold details that seem to be hand embroidered, inlaid stones on the fabric— that looks expensive all alone. If Bow and Glimmer were here, they would already be making thousands of comments based on half a season watched of Project Runway. It’s not the same when Catra tries to make those alone, but she settles. People even stand taller, walk in a different rhythm than Catra does. Why, she wonders, would Glimmer’s friend think this would be her place?

She almost wishes she had a tie to adjust right now, but she settles for keeping her hands on her pockets. Lonnie is still nowhere to be found, and that’s the least she can look for here. 

Catra spots her by a water fountain, tight fitted dress, just as sumptuous as any other here, too many details for Catra’s eyes to focus on. She tries her best to fit in those people, shoulders back as she walks slowly until Lonnie. The guy by her side has his hand extended, black fine lines curling up his wrist to the same symbol that’s on her card.

Lonnie smiles at the sight of her.

“You made it. Wasn’t sure you had it in you.”

Lonnie doesn’t offer a hand or takes a step closer, so Catra stands still, hands stuffed her pocket.

“I got curious.”

She smiles. “I know you did.”

When something catches her attention, she turns and Catra follows. She hadn’t noticed it before, but flags hang from the columns, the same symbol on her card painted on them— the same one on Lonnie’s neck, too. The green almost makes her feel nauseous.

“It’s an interesting place,” she offers.

“Yeah, no doubt.”

Lonnie moves and motions for Catra to follow her. No one really pays attention to her as she doesn’t know if that means she fits in here, or if it’s normal for people to don’t even bat an eye at each other. The place gets weirder and weirder by the second even though she can’t quite get _what_ is going on here.

Rich people are peculiar, to say at least.

“Glimmer told me you’re in law school,” Lonnie says. “There are a lot of powerful people in here for you to meet.”

She just nods as a guy with a golden suit passes through them.

 _“Some_ people really like to show off, but they contribute, in the end.”

“To what, exactly?”

Lonnie considers for a moment until they reach another part of the saloon— here, the walls seem to be even taller, and there’s a band playing on one corner. The melody is light, soft, but Catra’s almost annoyed by it— it’s almost too sweet for a place like this.

“The Horde.”

Something sparks on her mind; Catra’s _sure_ she’s heard this name before. Lonnie doesn’t offer any more than that and she’s not surprised by it, considering the exclusivity of the event, but she still tries to think of when, or how this is known to her. Not like she ever dreamed about it, or met any of these people before. They’re strangers to her, looking all the same and simultaneously so different from everything she knows. There is something quite odd about this whole thing, but she can’t grasp _what._ She knows this name, but her mind fails her. 

She turns to Lonnie, who got silent. Then, “I have to go find some people. Why don’t you try to mingle?”

“Yeah, sure,” she rushes. Her eyes fixate on Lonnie’s tattoo as she walks away.

Catra runs her eyes through the room again, getting a drink when a waiter passes her. She’s not the biggest fan of alcohol, but she supposes there’s no way of getting through the night without it. She’s always been good with people, but this? What was Lonnie trying to do, get her a job? Glimmer’s tone had insinuated that Lonnie had an interest in her as date, but what if Glimmer had been the one to misinterpret things? Could happen— she was too stubborn to listen to other people, sometimes. 

Mingle. She could do that. Wouldn’t hurt to take what she can from the night, after all.

Catra tries, at least.

It’s a big place, with lots of people and she never really hit off with these kinds of events. Too easy to be overwhelmed, but rich people can be amusing. She tries small talk and sometimes they work— she ends up hearing about some couple’s helipad that needed to be fixed as if it was the most interesting story she’d ever heard. The music is annoying, the same for the whole night, and at some point, she accepts that jazz won’t ever be her thing, especially after tonight. Lonnie disappears in the crowd and she doesn’t really care.

At some point, she wanders until a more secluded section, tables spread on darker places and cards being sprawled on the green acrylic— wonders if the gambling is legal, and concludes she doesn’t want to know. 

The main area still amazes her when she gets back to it. The ivory walls are simple, but the paintings hanged on them look as expensive as it can get. And the columns, the _gold—_ in every place she looks, there’s gold speckled somehow. It’s haunting. The glass chandeliers hang heavy and she wonders the damage it would cause if they simply fell off on the white marble floor. She can almost see her reflection on them, shining and glistening down from her. In the middle of the room, there’s a water fountain that rises above. Catra doesn’t know the point of _that,_ but she still traces it with her eyes, gold reflecting on the water and she follows it, expecting to see the reflex of the large windows but— 

She blinks.

Then, looks at the floor, and back at the fountain again. Sure, there is golden right by it, but that’s not the reflex she saw on the water. Her eyes trail back to a golden dress, hugging the girl’s figure as she stands perfectly still near the table across the room. It’s different from the other ones, she notices. No embroidery, no pearls or jewelry, just gold wrapped around the girl’s body. Pure gold. Of _course,_ it would be pure gold. The universe has to be tricking her, but, blinking again and moving her eyes up, the girl’s still there. The same features she’s known and drawn her entire life— jaw and cheekbones cutting sharp. There’s a smile on her lips, now, unusual to her dreams— and unusual to the horrifying night when Catra almost ran over her.

Catra’s not listening to the music anymore. There isn’t anything playing right now, as everything stops and she tries to catch her breath. Must be a joke, a sick twisted dream, but she pinches herself and nothing happens. She can’t _slap_ herself right now, so she shakes her head, slightly. When she looks back the girl’s still there. There are people around but Catra doesn’t bother to look twice at them; her gaze is locked on the way the dress glistens and casts its light on the water.

Catra must be crazy. Delusional, even, but— she’s _sure,_ somehow, that’s the same girl on the horse, golden clothes glowing under the moonlight. 

She presses the bridge of her nose, exhales. No, she’s crazy. That can’t be. She’s stressed by the situation, by the failed date and weird environment, and her mind's playing tricks on her. The girl is just blonde and wearing gold, like _everyone_ else on here. Catra’s crazy— Bow’s loud snoring has been messing up with her sleep, for sure.

It could be a dream. Could be an illusion, too many details messing up with her perception. She’ll open her eyes and it will be just some girl and she’ll go out back and throw up.

She was not expecting that the girl would look back at her too.

Something goes through her eyes as she widens them, focused on Catra of all things— recognition. The feeling creeps on Cara's neck and chokes her. The same girl who almost run over her with a horse and the same girl that whispered for her to wake up— staring wide-eyed at her like she was a corpse. 

It takes a minute, maybe two, maybe only three seconds in Catra's disfigured notion of time for the girl to look away, stand a little taller, and disappear between the golden walls.

Rationally speaking: Catra can walk away. Looking at her phone, more than an hour has passed; she can give an excuse, say that Glimmer needed her even though she knows Lonnie won’t care— no one here will. She can turn around, get into her car and don’t look back; lay on her bed, look at the window, and wake up with a pen on her hand again. It’s what she knows, but— 

She follows.

Not so different from her dreams, in the end.

It’s easy to spot her. The girl stands out in the crowd, with people turning to look at her when she passes— making space for her, taking a step back as if she could blind them. Catra shivers, flashes of gold burning her face. Maybe she could. 

She makes her way through the people as nonchalantly as she can, light on her feet while not losing track of the girl. She’s headed for the back, past the kitchen, and, when she turns on an empty corridor, no sight of people around, Catra reaches for her wrist: “Hey.”

The touch never happens. The girl startles and yanks her arm away before Catra can start to process what just happened, taking a step away from Catra and hugging her gloved hand to her chest. Her blue eyes are wide, shimmering at Catra and there’s no one else here to take the blame for this, nowhere else she could look— even though Catra still thinks that she wouldn’t look any other way.

Her hands shake on the side of her body. She searches her mind for all the times she’s seen this face close to her, reached for her and she disappeared— all the times she fell and held and it crumbled through her fingers. She tries to remember a voice, distant, telling her to wake up, gold pooling around their feet. Sweet, melodic, a dream coming true.

Nothing like that now. 

“Don’t touch me,” the girl says. Her tone is firm as she clenches her jaw and raises her shoulders. She’s taller than Catra, but that wouldn’t have mattered if they were close— there’s a look on her face that demands and incites respect. Power. 

Catra should’ve guessed she would not be that different than everyone else here.

“You know me.”

She shrugs, looking away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Catra keeps her gaze. The girl’s hair is not falling down her back as in her dreams; it tightens on a bun on top of her head, a diadem on her forehead, and a few locks framing her face. She looks ethereal either way and something gnaws on her stomach, but she doesn’t back down.

She tries again.

“You know who I am.”

“I really don’t. All I know it’s I wanted a moment of privacy and _you_ followed me here.”

“You _ran_ from me.”

“How could I have run from you if we didn’t see each other in the first place?”

Catra huffs, pressing her forehead. She goes for the safe route. 

“I saw you. And you saw me. Some nights ago—”

“Fine.” The girl takes off her thin golden gloves and they fall violently on the table at their side. Catra gazes at their reflex on the mirror above it, anger on the girl’s face as she stares down at Catra. “What do you want?”

Catra frowns. “What do you mean?”

“It’s a simple question.” She motions to the discarded gloves. “I’m here. I suppose you were after me that night. What do you want?”

“I don’t—”

“Oh,” she voices. “You don’t _know.”_

“Know about what?”

The girl props her chin. Catra’s mild annoyance doesn’t stop her from remembering all of the times she’s seen the same scene play on her sleep and her cheeks heat. She pauses, crosses her arms, and drags her eyes on Catra’s figure.

“If you don’t know, why are you here?”

“I said I wanted to talk to you.”

“So you corner me?”

“I didn’t— okay. Fine.”

She glances at her wrist, but there isn’t a watch there. There’s no jewelry on her besides the earrings that float above her collarbones. And no symbol tattooed, Catra realizes.

“You’re wasting my time.”

Not how Catra thought it would happen— not that Catra even thought about that, really. But, sometimes, she would let her mind wonder about what would be if the girl really existed. If they would be friends; if they would meet eventually; if they would fall apart violently as the world crumbled around them. She always had a way of entering Catra’s dreams— Catra always supposed she could have a way of finding her, too. 

Catra does not know the girl that stands across from her now. 

Something clicks as she watches the girl fidgeting her fingers, twisting her knuckles until they’re white.

“You were not supposed to be out that night,” she pauses, looking up, “were you?”

Her mouth twists.

“I wasn’t supposed to see you. Or, I don’t know. But you don’t seem very happy to see me here.”

“Fucking hell, who do you work for?”

“You have a _lot_ of assumptions about me, princess.”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yeah.” She crosses her arms. “I don’t _work_ for anyone. I just… don’t you— don’t you know me?”

It’s a risk she took when she came here, but that doesn’t stop the knot on her throat.

There’s silence. Something crosses her eyes and Catra doesn’t want to jump in and say it’s recognition— she’s too afraid of what the answer might be. She tries to focus on the sweet melody on the salon but they’re too far for it to be more than a buzz, nothing to make out of it. Catra lets her eyes wander; in her dreams, the girl always looked like she had emerged from the ocean, white silk around her limbs, flowing with the soft breeze that it was always present. Up until the last minute, she looked almost free. But now— the dark golden fabric pools around her feet, dragging as she moves slightly. It tightens around the legs until the very drop of the collar. The dress looks heavy, but the straps are thin— it doesn’t make sense, nor it does for the dress to look like pure gold, but it happens anyway.

Catra’s not that sure that she might not be dreaming, but the glare thrown at her is too violent to be made up by her own mind.

“What?” 

She considers. “You just— you don’t look real.”

Catra thinks that she might’ve seen the girl’s eye soften for a millisecond, but her mouth twists.

“It’s better for you if I’m not.”

She feels sick. Her blazer is too thick and it’s too hot and this place is too weird for her— but she can, at least, admit when things don’t work out. Even though she doesn’t exactly know what would be working out in this scenario. There’s nothing left to say, no words that could fill the space between the two of them. There has always been space, always the void of the unknown and Catra almost wishes she could get back to that, make a fantasy on her mind, and ignore the outside world.

_I wanna know you._

Catra won’t _ever_ tell Scorpia about tonight. The girl motions to the glove and, just as Catra is turning back, for once, she widens her eyes. Catra looks above her shoulder. A tall man dressed in a silver suit covers the exit of the corridor. He stands still for a moment, eyes running the dimly lighted place until they stop on Catra. She shivers at the smile that grows on her lips.

“Adora,” he calls, moving his eyes to the girl. “You didn’t tell me you brought a friend.”

He walks slowly, steps resonating through the room as he carefully approaches the girl — _Adora._ He doesn’t lay a finger on Catra, nor his suit touches her, but she still feels her body freeze at his sight. Whoever this man is, he’s mighty in a way that other people here just aren’t— Catra doesn’t know what to expect.

“She wanted to know where the bathroom was. It’s easy to get confused here.”

He looks at her bare hands then at Catra. “How rude of me, not introducing myself.” He offers a hand. “I’m Prime.”

She gulps. “Catra.”

When he tilts his head to the side, Catra wonders how fast she can run away from him. 

“I have the feeling that I know that name from somewhere. You live here in Bright Moon?”

“No, just visiting,” she says, but he keeps _looking._ “A friend invited me here tonight.”

Prime glances to his side. Catra doesn’t dare.

“Hope you’re enjoying the party.”

“I am.” She gulps. “It’s a beautiful place.”

“It is, indeed.” Every look of his feel twisted. “Wait until you see your biggest attraction for the night. But I’ll leave you to it. It was a pleasure seeing you here, Catra.”

Her hands are deep inside her pockets curled into fists, and he doesn’t move. Instead, he looks back and smiles. The look on Adora’s face is too familiar to Catra, too much like all the times she stared in horror as one of them fell over the abyss, all over again, night after night. She glances from Prime to Catra too fast to be at ease and forces a small smile— the corners of her mouth twitch, but she raises her chin and follows him. Catra stands there, still, releases the hands inside her pockets. 

When she turns her body, Adora is looking back— for her.

  
  
  


Catra finds Lonnie not much after that. She’s laughing alongside a tall, buff woman, and her smile grows bigger when she sees Catra— already tipsy, judging by the empty glass on her hand. 

“Having fun?”

She huffs. “You could say that.”

Lonnie’s definitely not sober; she starts rambling about one of the guests and Catra is not even trying to pay attention. Her eyes scan the room anxiously with no trace of Adora. It sounds weird to even _think_ about a name for her after years of having only an image, but she tries. At last, she checks her phone. It’s past midnight— maybe Catra spent too much time sitting on the stall trying to regain control of her breathing while urging not to call someone. Or maybe she just has a wrenched notion of time, which wouldn’t be news to her. 

Catra follows Lonnie’s step as they wander around, more because she doesn’t know what to do; how to steady herself right now. Her mind is still buzzing and Lonnie’s company is tolerable once she’s not really paying attention to Catra’s presence, mumbling things here and then.

She wishes she was drunk. 

“How much do you know these people?”

“Not more than I have to, really. A lot of them are nice, but, y’know how this goes down.”

She doesn’t. “Yeah.”

“It’s important to have contacts.”

“So, do you know who’s Adora?”

Lonnie’s eyes jolt to her, widening, brows raised. Catra regrets her question immediately. 

“Adora Grayskull is a big name around here.”

“Met her on my way to the bathroom. Figured I should say goodbye before I left.”

They spot near the fountain where Catra spotted her earlier in the night. Lonnie looks down, drawing a finger on the marble and dipping it into the water. Except— _except_ liquid gold has replaced the water, smearing Lonnie’s fingers as she smiles at it. Her eyes darken. “I have a feeling she already left.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there's that!  
> thank you so much for supporting this fic and i hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter :))


	3. the light, the flame

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not much happens in this one but i promise we're getting there sjhsjd i hope yall like it!!

Through the course of Catra’s teenage years, she got used to waking up early. Her uncle never tolerated late risers, and every word he spoke was about the importance of discipline. It never really made sense, but she got used to opening her curtains first thing in the morning and taking medicine for the headache that came from sleeping after two am — going to bed late never really grew out of her.

Today, she drags herself out of bed even though her head throbs, quickly opening the windows and getting dressed. Glimmer’s car is still covered in mud and nothing’s better for a carwash then a hot day, not a cloud visible in the sky. Her hair sticks to the back of her neck and she wipes the sweat off her forehead. Catra hates it. She gets down to make coffee— only Bow would drink hot coffee first thing in a summer morning— and doesn’t take long on it. The sooner she starts, the better.

At least it wasn’t raining last night; it would be a hundred times worse if it had, and Catra’s not sure she would have the patience for it. She had only drunk a glass of champagne, too distraught to pay attention to all the options she had, and, surprisingly, no dreams came when she got home — sleep came easily after her body gave in, tired and aching all of sudden. No dreams, for once.

It was almost unsettling.

The neighbors here aren’t nosy and the kids don’t pay attention to her, running barefoot on the burning concrete. Still too hot for a summer morning, sun blazing on her back as she scrubs the car, soap falling on her toes. It’s probably going to rain later; she hopes for it, at least. She hates having to do things under the rain as much as she hates getting stuck at home because of it, but  _ anything  _ would be better than this heatwave.

“That’s a  _ lot  _ of mud.”

Catra looks up. A boy that looks about seven years old stares at her through his crooked glasses.

“Yeah.” She stares at the dirty water. “A  _ lot.” _

“How do you even get that much mud on a car? All the streets here are paved. That’s why my mom lets me skate here.”

Cata sighs. Her interactions with kids were restricted to Frosta, Netossa’s niece, that was somehow so insufferable that Catra had grown fond of her over the years.

“Our car gets like this when we go to my grandpa’s ranch, but I don’t really like going there. I like the horses but there are a lot of bugs, too.”

So much for not having nosy neighbors.

“Yeah, I don’t like bugs either.”

“Then  _ what  _ were you doing in a place full of bugs?”

“I wasn’t—”

The boy turns when someone calls him, waving at Catra as he runs down the street. Catra grumps, soaking the sponge in the water again. By the time she finishes, she’ll probably have sun marks around the sleeves of her shirt— a stupid crop top that Bow gave her for Christmas that says  _ WILD CAT—  _ which is not the finest look for summer, but she’ll get over it. Glimmer was probably going to drag her to the nearest pool after she got bored some more.

The sun is setting higher on the sky as the car gets cleaner. Glimmer won’t even notice if Catra doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Her hair is already getting slick with sweat, but she’s almost done, and Glimmer’s probably still asleep. 

“Morning, Catra.”

She almost throws the sponge at Bow. When he leans on the side of the car, she wishes she had. He’s got his brows raised at her. 

“You scared me.”

“I thought you paid more attention than that.”

She glares. “I’m  _ focused.” _

“Why are you washing it if it’s probably going to rain later?”

“We can never really trust the weather.”

“Also, if I knew we were car washing today I would’ve put my matching crop top. We would look  _ so  _ cute.”

_ “C-word. _ Too early for the c-word.”

“You know you don’t really care.”

She soaks the sponge one more time. The sunlight reflects on the hood directly into her eyes, and she covers them.

“Didn’t want to wake you guys up. I made coffee, though.”

He grins at her. “Glimmer’s still sleeping. You know how she is. But I thought that after your date you would  _ at least  _ wake up a little bit late.”

Catra almost drags Bow inside. Who knew who could be listening to Bow gush about her unexisting love life at ten in the morning — people get  _ bored,  _ after all. 

“Told you wasn’t a date.”

“So what was it?”

“A party. I guess.”

“In a place with horses?”

She turns abruptly when they reach the kitchen. “Were you listenin—” 

“I had  _ just  _ arrived— ”

“Ugh,” groans Catra. She tugs at his arm and looks over to the stairs. “Can you keep it  _ down?” _

“I just want to know what’s going on with you. You’ve been quite weird about this.”

She glances at the coffee machine. The windows on the kitchen are wide enough for the whole place to be bathed in the lazy morning sunlight, reflecting on the polaroids Bow had taken and put on the fridge. She stares at one that has a smiling Glimmer with a milkshake in hand, arms around Bow, who holds out the camera. 

“I’m not keeping _secrets_ or anything. I just…It didn’t turn out how I imagined, okay?” She tugs at her arm. Bow’s always been good at making her talk. “I’m frustrated, I guess.” Not the whole truth, but not a lie. Driving back home had been a bitter experience after Lonnie dipped her hands in liquid gold. Catra had refused it, stomach clenching and queasiness going up to her throat all of a sudden. There had been a million scenarios on her mind about how it would be to meet the girl of her dreams, and all of them had been crushed when _Adora_ trod lightly on her sight.

She doesn’t know to process that the girl now has a  _ name.  _

“I don’t want this to come out the wrong way,” Bow starts, “but did you really have your hopes  _ that  _ high with Lonnie? You barely knew her.”

He doesn’t know, she tells herself again. But it’s too early in the morning, and Catra’s tired — her head drops to her elbows on the counter, shoulders down while she exhales. Too tired, but she’s slept all night. So, she tries: “It wasn’t her, exactly. It was just… something.”

Bow keeps looking at her. “Go on.”

“I thought it could be fun. That it could be different, that I would find something exciting. I didn’t.” Bow’s still quiet, kind eyes directed at her, so she goes on. “I just wanted  _ something  _ to happen.” 

But she doesn’t say what.

“The party was out of town, hence the mud. No horses, though.”

“I don’t really care about the car.”

She sighs. “I know.”

He doesn’t hug her like Scorpia would. Instead, he places a hand over hers. She appreciates it nonetheless.

“You don’t need to keep your feelings hidden from us.”

A lump in her throat keeps her from talking more than she should— more than she can, after all. She wants to vomit every thought she had since she raced through the roadway with gold burning behind her eyelids; wants to talk about the dreams and the pilled journals on her wardrobe and the hope, the searching, the longing for something more. Her heart is heavy on her chest and she’s tired of dragging it chained to her ankles. Catra’s tired but— 

She smiles at Bow. “I know.”

  
  
  


Catra doesn’t like lying, but it comes naturally to her. There’s a recurring thought on the back of her mind:  _ this is not right _ , but the words are already spilling out of her mouth. Sometimes she blames it on her uncle, on the way she could never say what she was really thinking, where she’d been; other times, she’ll blame it on the curious teachers and colleagues that she learned to dodge off over the years. Too many questions, not many straight answers. But she was convincing, and it stuck.

She doesn’t have to do this anymore; haven’t for a while. The things she once had to hide were gone, no more secrets left to bury— not that many, at least. Still, she doesn’t say where the party happened, doesn’t talk about the high walls and golden chandeliers, or the liquid gold fountain. When Glimmer asks about it, it slips from her lips that it was out of town; the same she did to Bow. Not exactly a lie— not the truth, either. Maybe she could unpack it later, after a cold bath and a call to Scorpia but now, as Glimmer fills their cart with flour, baking powder, and sugar, Catra forgets about it. 

“Did you check the expiration date for these?” she asks.

Glimmer glares at her. “Of course I did.”

Catra just knows she didn’t, but she keeps pushing the cart. At least there’s AC inside the supermarket, otherwise, it would be unbearably hot. She hovers around the freezers longer than she has to.

“What’s left for us to get?”

“Just some cleaning products, but I asked Bow to get those.”

“So we’re done?”

“So patient.”

“One of my best qualities.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes. “I’m just looking around to see if I forgot something.”

“If everything is crossed, you didn’t forget anything.” She mutters to herself as Glimmer is already out on another aisle.

It’s almost exhaustive to go grocery shopping with Glimmer; doesn’t matter if she makes a list, she ends up with more than she came for. Catra’s usually the one to balance that out, but she lets Glimmer drag her as she looks around trying to find any familiar face that she could’ve seen last night. The result is frustrating; not even a glimpse of it. Not like she was really expecting it after seeing the way people stood, talked and dressed at the party, but annoyance still creeps at the back of her neck—  _ what  _ had she even got into last night?

Glimmer snaps her fingers. “Catra?”

“What?”

Her bracelets dangle in front of Catra’s eyes. “I asked you if you wanted to get something else.”

“No, I’m cool.”

Glimmer stops her cart abruptly; it almost bumps into a tall boy that glares at them. Catra glares back. 

“You’re being so weird today. Is this about your date?”

“Not a date—”

“You can just tell me—”

“Oh, look, Bow’s coming,” she smiles. Fine, maybe avoiding the subject is almost impossible when she’s living with people that preach communication and dialogue— doesn’t mean she won’t still try it today, considering that Angella is coming back to town and she wouldn’t dare give Glimmer something  _ else _ to worry about.

The realization that Glimmer  _ will  _ worry leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“Sorry it took so long,” Bow says. “I was trying to find a neutral scent.”

“Summer breeze,” Catra reads the laundry soap scent. “This seems orange.”

“It’s  _ neutral.  _ And neutral is obviously yellow. Plus, it won’t trigger your allergies.” 

Her shrug is not as nonchalant as she wants it to be. “That house is dusty enough alone.”

Bow drops his basket inside the cart and rolls it; Glimmer too busy looking at her phone, so Catra figures it must be Angella. She focuses on organizing the items, partially because they’re messy — and she doesn’t like messy — and partially because she’s avoiding Bow’s questions as well. 

Glimmer stops again when they pass the wine section. Bow shots Catra a look.

“If my mom is coming, we need wine.”

Catra thinks about the man in the silver suit and the gold fountain. Wine might be the wisest decision of the day.

The supermarket is almost empty. The tall guy who glared at Glimmer and Catra hops on a bike and rides downtown, and the two girls that are packing will soon be off. The one elderly couple by the freezer is  _ not  _ the type to attend a party like that. Catra props her hips on the metal as the conveyor belt starts, distracting herself with each beep. There’s not even the tiniest gossip about it.

“I think that girl was looking at you,” Glimmer chants when they reach the car. She almost wants to go back in— it’s so hot she feels as if she could melt at any time on the sideway.

Bow quirks an eyebrow. “Which one?” 

“The short one, with the pink top. I think I had french classes with her?”

“I’m pretty sure I know the other one, but I’m not sure from  _ where.”  _

Catra rolls down her windows as she gets in, fanning herself. The strands of hair that fell out of her bun are wet with sweat already. “You guys know  _ everyone  _ here.” 

“It’s a small town. It would be impossible not to.”

Glimmer turns back slightly to look at her as Bow starts the car. “Didn’t you grow up in a small town too?”

When Bow turns the AC on, she’s so relieved she could cry. She rolls her windows up again, letting her eyes trail the narrow houses and stores that rise around the town square— a lot different than the city she grew up in, but the thought still makes her heart ache. Catra was only five when Hordak decided he wanted out of the country and she was obligated to follow him along. 

The houses aren’t higher than the hills surrounding Bright Moon. Catra searches, unintentionally. The road she drove into last week disappears up between the trees, branches covering up the way. She tries to make something out of it, spot something else that can match her memories, that can give her a  _ clue,  _ but there’s nothing there. A glint of sunlight goes right to her eyes and she squeezes them shut. Turning her head to look front again, she sighs. “Yeah. I hate small towns.” 

  
  
  


Glimmer didn’t plan to make it a dinner, but by the time Angella pulls in, the sky is already dark. 

Catra sees a glimpse of her running inside, grey coat floating behind her like a cape and rushed words exchanged before she runs upstairs. Glimmer gives them a weak grin, cleaning her hands on her apron. 

“She said she’s going to take a shower before eating. Which is good, because we’re not done yet.”

“We’re  _ almost—” _

“Why don’t you go upstairs so you can talk to her for a bit?” Bow offers her a smile and Catra raises her eyebrows. “We can take it from here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” Catra shrugs. 

“Fine, but I’ll be  _ right  _ back.”

She counts Glimmer’s steps until the second floor, turning to Bow when she hears the shut of a door. “Are you going to tell her that she messed up the dough like, five times?”

“Shhh, she doesn’t need to know  _ that,  _ and  _ you  _ are in no place to talk.”

“I’m an  _ excellent  _ cook!”

“You’re wrapping them all wrong and you almost burnt the meat.”

She points an accusatory finger at him, hand resting on her hip. “I am never making brigadeiro for you again. _Ever.”_

“Don’t even try!”

It’s too hot to be boiling things, but apparently, dumplings have a special meaning between Angella and Glimmer. The AC is broken so the windows are wide open, but there’s no breeze moving the sheer white windows; the air hangs heavy in the kitchen and Catra tugs at her bun once again. She almost wishes that the renovations would include a pool in the backyard, or that there was anywhere else that she could go to. Looking over the window, the sky is clear, not a cloud in sight— still, she has a feeling that it’s going to rain. 

Bow shows her how to wrap them properly and she tries her best to follow it. It’s fast because Bow is good at it, and Catra vaguely remembers that one of Bow’s older Brothers has a restaurant. She never had an older sibling, and, while Netossa came close to the spot, Catra never took her as the cooking type. Their friendship was built on Netossa showing Catra how to take care of her bruises and stand up to the bullies at her school, and later giving Netossa hell for being head over heels the new purple-haired girl. Not much softness between all of that.

She doesn’t take long in the shower after they finish it. The door to Angella’s room is still closed and Glimmer is not in her room, so she passes that and finds Bow in the dining room, setting the table with square plates and blue napkins. She doesn’t ask why. 

When Glimmer comes down, she doesn’t look at them. 

They sit.

Catra won’t say it out loud when she knows how much Angella’s shadow bothers Glimmer, but the resemblance is clear in the way they sit, tall, orderly as if they were about to boss around everyone in the house— Glimmer’s  _ always  _ ready for that—  __ and they would be  _ right.  _ Glimmer died her hair pink and cut it short, but it curls graciously like Angella’s. It’s hard to remember Micah’s face when they’re side by side like this.

“This is really good,” Angella says, hand covering her mouth while she looks at Glimmer. Her eyes are playful. “And the kitchen is not even on fire.”

Glimmer shrugs. “I think we managed that pretty well.”

Catra bites herself from making a snarky comment. Instead, she tilts her head when Bow smiles and says, “Glimmer’s been doing a great job handling this place.”

“It’s just an old house,” she beams.

“No, I mean it. Things are going a lot faster under her directions.”

Glimmer smiles across from Bow and Catra grins at them. You’re not supposed to place your elbows on the table but Angella does it anyway, taking Glimmer’s hand between hers. 

“The house is going to look splendid, and Bow’s right. I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t here to help me.” She sighs. “Things have been hectic in the office and I wouldn’t be able to keep up with things here. I couldn’t even stay when you got here.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mom. I know you’re like, super busy with, you know, whatever your firm is dealing with right now.”

The bags under Angella’s eyes are more telling than her words. “People here are just  _ impossible  _ sometimes. But tell me, what have you kids been up to?”

“We showed Catra around, but not much, because there was a lot of we had to clean.”

“Things were a mess, weren’t they?”

“A little bit, but—”

Bow turns to Angella. “Nothing the best friend squad can’t handle.”

“That  _ name,”  _ groans Catra, letting her head fall back, but Angella smiles at them, warm in a way Catra’s just not used to.

She’s not used to a lot of things inside this house.

“Bright Moon is a  _ lovely _ town. I remember when I first saw this house. The neighborhood was so different, but still, there was something magical about this place.” Her face darkens. “I just knew I wanted to raise a family here.”

“You did,” Glimmer squeezes her hand. 

“I guess I didn’t want to go through everything that was stored because there are a lot of memories. And I’ve been thinking about it a lot recently.”

The bottle of wine that Glimmer bought is opened by Angella. Catra focuses on her dumplings while Angella fills her glass and sips from it. Glimmer’s eyes flicker through them.

“Every year,” Angella starts, shaking her head, “someone wants to buy that stupid ranch and  _ every year  _ I have to explain that is not for sale, it hasn’t been for a long time, but they insist that they saw it somewhere on the internet, so we have to deal with the owners. And they’re  _ impossible.” _

“You mean the Mystacor ranch?” Bow asks.

Glimmer must notice that Catra doesn’t know what they’re talking about. She turns and says, “The tale about the lake we told you? That I said the owners closed the ranch to the public?”

“Oh.”

“Yes, exactly that. They bought the land a long time ago, but they act like they founded the city.”

“Assholes.”

_ “Language,  _ Glimmer.”

“But—” she sighs. 

“Your father… he was obsessed with that ranch. I don’t know why, and I don’t want to, but every time I have to deal with it, the memory comes to my mind.” 

Glimmer quirks an eyebrow. When she turns, Catra notices that she wears the same earrings Angella does. “What do you mean obsessed?”

“Well, there’s a lot of tales, and your father loved that stuff. I mean, who doesn’t? It’s fun to have something like this to tell your kids.” She turns to Bow. “I bet your dads  _ loved  _ to talk about it with you.”

His face lights up. “Yeah, they told us all of the stories. It truly seemed as if they were real.”

“I don’t know if Micah believed they were real,” she scoffs, “but something about that ranch just instigated him. I think I took you there once, but the lake was already closed.”

Catra knows that Glimmer was about to say  _ assholes.  _

“The lake isn’t like, a patrimony or something? Can’t the city act on it?”

“I don’t know, I guess the mayor just accepted it,” says Bow.

“She didn’t. But that’s what happens when you’re dirty rich.”

Catra perks up. At her side, Bow drops his shoulders. “I wish we could take you there to meet the place. It’s wonderful. One of my uncles got married there, but it was a long time ago. My dads must have the pictures.”

“Oh, I saw those,” Glimmer smiles. “Catra, it’s such a beautiful place. I can’t believe people would just—  _ ugh. _ It’s like those fancy places that people get married on TV. The saloon is  _ huge  _ and I think it has like, the highest ceiling I’ve ever seen.”

That sparks something.

“But we were kids, so—”

“Bow, you  _ know  _ how amazing that place was. It felt like a castle. I swear I could get lost in there.”

Catra fidgets with her fingers. They broke a wall to make an open concept design, but the room is still  _ too hot.  _ She starts to regret the dumplings.

“Who are those people, after all?” she tries.

Angella’s face twist. “I never met them. Super secluded people, always sending their employees to run their errands. I talked to a woman on the phone, once, and recently with a man. Quite frightening.”

Catra knows Bright Moon is a small town, but still, there’s a lot she hasn’t met yet. Farms and ranches out of town that could easily match up Glimmer’s descriptions, her vague memories of the party and the so acclaimed lake. She doesn’t even know  _ where  _ it is, didn’t bother getting a second look at Bow’s library. But— she thinks about the high walls, glass chandeliers reflecting gold everywhere, white marble underneath her shoes and the man in the silver suit, voice ringing in her ears.

She hadn’t seen a lake, but it  _ was  _ dark. 

“I didn’t know Bright Moon had stuff like this,” she shrugs. 

Glimmer groans. Outside, drizzle starts to fall. It’s not getting any less hot, but Catra almost enjoys the white noise of it and the soft breeze that runs through the house. 

“I didn’t even know that they  _ were  _ from here. I thought they had just bought the ranch.”

Angella drags a manicured finger around the glass. “I wasn’t sure they did. But Juliet— remember her? We ended up working together on this. She said that the house on the hill belongs to them.”

Bow looks from Glimmer to Catra —not subtle as the thinks he is— and raises his eyebrows, like someone who says  _ I told you so. _ The shiver that goes up Catra’s spine doesn’t match the hot weather, but it isn’t even that hot anymore— it’s raining, pouring now and Catra didn’t even realize. A girl on the hill, glowing under the moonlight; a girl shivering under the gaze of a silver suited man, in a ranch too far from everything Catra knew, too big for her. A sinuous symbol on the back of Lonnie’s neck, stamped on a card thrown inside her wardrobe. Faces she had never seen before, not in a place like Bright Moon.

_ The Horde. _

A rumble of thunder rolls in. Glimmer jumps in her seat as Angella laughs about it, and Bow turns his gaze to them. The curtains flow in the living room as the rain gets more violent, and it’s not that warm anymore.

Bow shoves his shoulder against hers. “It’s raining, see? Told you so?”

He can’t even  _ imagine.  _

  
  


The rain lasts longer than they anticipated. It lasts the whole night and, when Catra wakes up, the water is still falling heavy on the roof tiles, the sky completely covered in gray clouds. There’s not much to do on the outside while it’s raining, so Angella dismissed the workers for the day saying that she wanted to set some things before moving things inside. From her bedroom, Catra can hear the back and forth conversation between Glimmer and Angella, voices rising every now and then when the color of the wall is mentioned. Still, is all white noise— Catra has her eyes on the horizon, looking over the roof of the other houses and meeting the hills, so far away.

She can’t stop thinking about the hills if she’s being honest.

The windowsill is not the most comfortable surface, but Catra curls herself against the glass and ignores the pang on her lower back. Not even the ever running teardrops distract her— even though she  _ knows  _ she won’t be able to see anything from here, house too low and hills too high. Her eyes are still focused on the tiny green dots she can see from here, swaying every time the wind blows. It’s not like there will be a glint of gold between the trees as a signal for her— not like she’s  _ expecting  _ it, after all.

Catra knows that she should just brush it off as if there was nothing to expect, nothing that could surprise her. The possibility— no, the  _ truth _ — that something might happen is still new to her, flipping her stomach upside down inside her body, heart racing on her chest as her fingers begin to shake. The mug on her hands is already cold. She doesn’t care. 

Her journal is spread open on her bed from when she was going through it earlier as if that could’ve helped. The answer couldn’t be in a dream— it never was. If so, the dreams just made her more confused over the passing days.  _ Has it ever crossed your mind that I might want answers too? _ How much of that had even been true? Did they  _ really  _ share a dream or the cold look she received came from the night on the hill alone? Was it even possible— to share that kind of thing, to touch someone that ran from her on the first try?

And  _ worse—  _ what the fuck Catra had gotten herself into, going into a cult party by what it seems, chasing after someone she had only seen in her dreams, and hearing that her face was  _ familiar.  _ She’s not stupid to dismiss what Lonnie and Prime had said, not stupid to ignore that she has seen the symbol before, knew the familiarity that came from the name—  _ The Horde.  _ Her online searches had gone back blank. Maybe in her old house, but she would never call Hordak for that. Even if she did, what are the odds that he would actually help her? 

Catra unlocks her phone. Her finger hands around the  _ super pal trio  _ icon, but she would only worry Scorpia. Instead, she clicks on the robot icon she had set for Entrapta and types.

**catra [14:46]**

_ can you call me when you leave work? i wanted to ask you to look up something for me _

Her phone takes about five seconds to ring. She takes the call. 

_ “Hello, Catra.” _

“I thought you were at work.”

_ “I am, but I already finished my tasks for the day. I was just testing some new software.” _ She pauses, something clanking.  _ “What do you want me to look for?” _

Catra exhales, shifting on her seat. “You think you can search for an organization for me? At least I think it’s an organization. There’s a symbol on a card I received and I saw it tattooed on some people.”

_ “Can you send it to me?” _

“Already did.”

_ “Oh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it around.” _

“Yeah, me neither.”

A pause. 

“You’re not going to ask me where I got it?”

_ “I don’t think you would answer this question, but I had some theories.” _

She wasn’t going to, but if she wanted to get straight answers, she would have to come clean to Entrapta. But— “Don’t tell Scorpia, okay? I’m going to call her later. Whoever they are, they hosted a party here in Bright Moon. The symbol is on the card, but I saw it tattooed on some people.”

Entrapta hums and she can hear typing noise on the background.

“There’s also a name. The Horde.”

The typing stops.

“You know it?”

_ “It’s not a strange name, but I don’t have anything concrete. Might need some time, though.” _

“Yeah, of course. It’s not urgent, it’s just—”

_ “You sound worried. Are you sure I shouldn't call Scorpia?”  _

“I don’t want to bother her.” Her voice is smaller than she anticipated. “But I’m okay. For real. I’m just… it was a peculiar party to say at least, and I’m sure I’ve heard this before, but I can’t remember when.” She pauses. “I think it might have something to do with Hordak.” 

_ “Oh. I see.” _ Entrapta goes back on typing.  _ “I will call you later, then. When I get some answers. Might take some time because organizations like that are usually very protected, but it’s always fun cracking their codes. Update you soon!” _

Catra almost smiles. Missing the frantic rhythm of Entrapta’s experiments is not something she thought that would happen today. “Take your time. And thank you.”

She looks at Scorpia’s icon— an updated selfie from her and Perfuma, flower crowns on their heads. She recognizes Mermista’s house on the background and it aches just a little bit. Catra’s not clingy, but she finds herself wanting to be back home, curled on her bedroom listening to Scorpia’s ramble about her dates. It would be comforting, familiar,  _ home.  _ And it’s not that she doesn’t like Glimmer and Bow, really, but they always took her outside her comfort zone, like  _ now—  _ a different city, a different house; questions hovering around her mind every night since she stepped in Bright Moon.

And it’s not their fault; it’s no one’s fault, but she still curls herself against the window, locks her phone and doesn’t leave her room for the rest of the afternoon.

  
  
  


Catra knocks twice. She waits, resting her shoulder on the doorway, until Glimmer’s small voice comes from the other side, “Come in.”

The walls to her room on Hordak’s house were white, clean, framings reserved for certificates and school accomplishments. Catra’s photos were always on her nightstand drawer, tucked nicely for her to look at before sleeping. It was a good room, and not much different from the one back home on her shared apartment with Scorpia. It doesn’t change the small aching on her chest when her eyes take in the walls covered in photos, posters, stupid stickers and polaroids; she can barely manage to grasp that there’s lavender underneath.

She laughs. “I can’t believe your hair matches your room.”

Glimmer huffs, looking at her hair and then to the walls. “It  _ doesn’t.  _ The walls are light orchid.”

Catra blinks. Glimmer’s bed is pressed against one of the walls, right below the window. The streetlight drags itself on the white sheets.

“And your hair?”

“My hair is  _ purple.  _ And fading, by the way. _ ” _

She shrugs. “If you say so.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes, but she makes space for Catra to sit by her side. She almost drowns between the cushions. 

“Bow ordered pizza for us. He says he’s coming up here in a bit.”

The open bedroom windows face the street and Catra focuses on the raindrops illuminated by the streetlamp, curtains flowing with the chilly breeze. Glimmer shifts by her side, but Catra keeps looking outside.

Catra doesn’t ask— she doesn’t need to. 

“My mom apologized for that day,” Glimmer starts. “She was telling me some more about things at the office, and how much they need her right now. She’s probably gonna have to leave in a few days, but…”

A pause.

“Sometimes I forget that this house haunts her too, you know? They chose it together, they painted the walls and chose the furniture. It’s all them. Maybe that’s why she wants to renovate it. He’s not going to come back, and it’s past time for us to move on.”

She gently nudges Glimmer’s shoulder, pulling her knees to her chest. She knows she doesn’t  _ have  _ to say something back, give a piece of information about her in return, but— 

A knock on the door startles her. Bow pushes himself inside, phone sliding down to his pocket as he moves to sit on Glimmer’s desk. He doesn’t look at the lavender— fine,  _ light orchid—  _ walls like Catra did; he already knows them, sits on one of the cushions and Catra knows he  _ fits  _ here, another missing piece of the puzzle that’s always been Glimmer’s life. 

She almost smiles at them. Instead, “It’s the pizza here?”

“I’ve literally just called them.”

Catra shrugs. “Sometimes dream become reality, you know?”

It’s bitter than it should be.

“What are we talking about?”

“Was telling Catra what my mom told me. About my father, and the office.”

Bow runs a finger through Glimmer’s shelves, fixing the crooked books there. The titles go from fairy tales to her college books, and Catra adverts her eyes before she gets stressed about law school again.

“It’s almost like your mom runs that place by herself.”

“Pretty sure that’s true at this point.” 

“Well,” says Catra. “She’s sure a goddess of patience for dealing with pricks like that.”

Glimmer props her chin on her palm. “I don’t think I would be able to do as she does.”

“We  _ know,”  _ Catra snorts and a pillow on her face covers her laugh. “There’s a reason we’re banished from that cafe… what’s the name? The one with the yellow walls.”

“Elberon?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Well,” Bow starts and tilts his head, “You guys are banished. I’m  _ not.” _

A pillow flies to Bow’s face as Glimmer narrows her eyes at him. “You wouldn’t  _ dare  _ go without us.”

“You’re right,” he laughs. “Debate night is pretty boring without a cursing monologue.”

Catra cocks an eyebrow. “I’m actually proud of my performance  _ and  _ the guy was a jerk. He totally had it coming.”

Glimmer looks at her, shifting between the cushions— most of them already lost in the room. 

“You’re trying to make me feel better or something?”

“Just saying, pretty lame place after all.”

“Awn,” Bow looks at her with that  _ face.  _ “Catra’s  _ soft.” _

“Glimmer, give me one of those pillows with dangling thingies.” 

“I don’t know, Catra. You might be a little bit of a softie.”

She scoffs. “I’m packing and leaving right now.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone.”

Catra rolls her eyes and doesn’t tell them that their light banter gives her a place in here, a position in which she fits in a room too pink and too glittery for her own good. She lets herself have this, going back and forth without actually getting anywhere, not even checking the time. They don’t ask her about last night and her heart hangs a little heavy at that— she shouldn’t be hiding things when it’s not even her car, her house. The thought itches at the back of her ear, words too familiar coming back, words that  _ shouldn’t  _ be coming back. She should trust them wholeheartedly, share her dreams in this room straight out of a 2000’s romcom. She should, and  _ she should,  _ but— 

“Called Entrapta today.”

“How is she?” Bow moves his head. “I miss her.”

“She’s fine. Doing her things, you know. I think she’s starting her doctorate next semester? I remember she talked about it before I left.”

“That seems just so  _ cool.” _

“It’s because you’re a nerd.”

“Can’t argue with that,” Glimmer shrugs. “I never understand what you guys are saying.”

Catra’s heart thuds against her rib cages. She fidgets with the hem of her shirt, looking at the black thread around her finger. 

“Last night reminded of her.”

Bow and Glimmer share a look. She keeps playing with the thread.

“It was a really fancy party. Like,  _ real  _ fancy. Loaded shit. She would absolutely lose it at the possibility of a social experiment there.”

Glimmer shrugs. “Still not over the last one.”

“Yeah, me neither.” She bites the inside of her cheek. “It was weird. Lonnie and I  _ definitely  _ didn’t hit it off, and I didn’t know anyone there. She said it was a great opportunity for me to make contacts, or whatever. Weird,  _ but. _ Nice drinks.”

“I got a lot of other friends here.”

“Please don’t try and set me up with your weird high school friends.”

“They’re not  _ weird—  _ look at Bow! Bow and I went to the same school.”

Bow widens his eyes from where he’s sitting, glitter bottle on his hands. “I  _ never  _ said I liked Lonnie, though.”

“Which side are you?” Glimmer mutters, then looks at Catra. “But did you have fun at least?”

Catra drops her shoulders, treading carefully what she should and what she shouldn’t say. The lines are blurred on her mind. “I think the party was on that ranch your mom talked about. Mystacor.”

Bow drops the glitter bottle on the bed; it doesn’t spill, but it shimmers under the streetlight, just like the sequin pillow next to him. Glimmer, on the other hand, scrunches her nose.

“I didn’t know they had parties there. But, wait— you mean like the owner was there? The creepy guy mom talked about?”

She shivers. “Could be? Everyone there was kinda creepy.” 

“God, they’re just so weird. It fits them to live in that house, then.”

“No one there seemed to be a ghost if that calms you.”

Bow scoffs. “As if you would  _ know.  _ That house still gives me the creeps.”

“If they’re so rich like mom said,” considers Glimmer, “maybe they just own the house for like. Weird parties and stuff.”

“It  _ is  _ a fancy house.”

“Yeah. The ranch is pretty nice, too.” She turns to Catra. “Did you like it, at least? It’s an enchanting place.”

Bow still has a look on his face— half proud of Catra for opening up, half digging into years of fairy tales to bring to the conversation. 

“Enchanting for sure. Did you feel the magic of the place?  _ Oh, _ did you see the lake?”

She looks outside the window again, remembers the nausea on her throat and how light her steps were on the marble, how easy it would be to get light headed on a place like this; the gold reflecting everywhere she looked, the fountain, Lonnie dipping her hands on the gold.  _ Worse—  _ sitting on Glimmer’s car in the middle of the road, clenching the wheel and repeating the name to herself, _ Adora, Adora, Adora,  _ as if it would feel real that way. The name is heavy on her tongue as she tried to place the same girl that fell on her arms and gripped her and burned her and ran away from her through the golden high walls— Adora. Wanting to turn her car and go back and go  _ somewhere  _ so they could see each other again— the bitter realization that Catra’s nightmare had come to life in the most twisted way. 

She had felt something— recognition, horror, despair— but that didn’t feel like magic. The scars on her shoulder ache.

“No,” she says. “I think I missed that one.”

Her head throbs. Bow and Glimmer wait for her to speak, and she wants to talk about the Horde and Hordak and how that scared the crap out of her; about the clench in her stomach because she doesn’t want to go through her past, her early memories, whatever she left in Fright City when she took off years ago. She wants to talk about the colored walls and her journals and how it’s just  _ too much  _ on her mind, but— 

She lets the conversation fly back to the ranch, the lake, other beautiful places she had to see in Bright Moon; lets Glimmer take  _ more  _ photos of the wall to show them to Catra, and she tries to smile at it— and it’s a successful attempt because Catra learned that a long time ago. They don’t ask her further about it, and she doesn’t try to bring it back. Once they eat, she will claim she has a headache and will go up to her room— too much dust, change of weather and all. And she’ll lie on her bed, look at the ceiling and dream about Adora, hands reaching and ground breaking underneath her feet. Familiar, routine, she can map in on her head already, imagine her hands touching Adora’s. That too, she learned a long time ago. 

It doesn’t happen.

  
  
  


It rains all night.

Catra shouldn’t know that.

She should wake up at three am, startled, hands gripping her pen and journal, writing until she passed out; check her arms for nail shaped scars and scratches, looking for any signs that the dream had been real; wake up again at nine, to the birds chirping and the smell of wet grass outside. She should wake up glad that it wasn’t. Catra shouldn’t be tossing in bed at one-thirty in the morning, cursing herself for a dream she did not have.

It’s not like she doesn’t remember, or as if it went away faster than she predicted. It never happened in the first place. She just  _ slept,  _ and it shouldn’t bother her, but tonight it does. The rain keeps pouring on her windows and her blood pumps on her ears, and she can’t even  _ dream.  _ Did she want it— to have a twisted dream, watch herself fall over and over into the void of whatever that was? Didn’t she want them to stop, didn’t she  _ always have?  _

The truth is sour and harsh. She swallows it, looks at the ceiling. The clock on her nightstand reads one thirty in the morning, and she wants to see Adora again. 

She probably shouldn’t. No— she shouldn't. That girl haunted her for twenty years, made her presence notable in every sketchbook, every journal Catra had laid her hands on. She deserves a break, but,  _ but—  _

Catra knew her in a way she wasn’t ready to admit; when she closed her eyes, she knew who was waiting for her on the other side. She learned the curves of the hand she held onto every night, the way they fit hers easily. She had memorized blue eyes and blonde hair and a goofy smile; memorized horrified looks, dirt surrounding her and twisted lips screaming at her. How many dreams had they shared, how many times had they met before actually seeing each other? How many times had Catra reached and hoped that the girl would appear to her and stay— how many times had she cursed at herself for wanting such thing?

She doesn’t do that, now. Catra knows better, but she gives in, lets her head fall on the soft pillow. Adora’s face is clear on her mind like it never had been before. It shouldn’t be— the image should blur, lose its focus, burn at the edges. It doesn’t. Catra could close her eyes and imagine a whole dream, take control of the ending, make them stay. The scenario tempts her, but her mind goes back to what should’ve happened; to the moment she reached at the party.  _ Almost,  _ another almost. She tries to imagine how it would’ve been touching her at that moment— the walls still around them, not a chance of losing each other in sight. 

Catra sleeps to the thought of holding Adora’s hand.

  
  
  


“Your coffee is going to get cold.”

Catra looks up from the couch. Glimmer stands on the doorway, thin jacket hanging around her shoulders and keys dangling on her hands. Her mug sets on the coffee table and she gulps.

“Forgot about it.”

_ “You  _ forgot about coffee? Something’s not right here.”

It’s meant as a joke but—  _ yeah.  _

“My mom asked me to go grocery shopping with her, and Bow’s going to stop at his house to get some stuff. You want to come with us?”

The windows are open and it’s still raining; the temperature is nice enough for Catra to wear t-shirts without getting sweaty, and she’s glad for it. By her side on the couch, her laptop’s open on one of the animes Frosta had recommended her— she doesn’t remember a word from the last three episodes she just watched. Her searches for Adora Grayskull came back null, but she hasn’t closed the tabs just yet.

“Gonna stay in and finish this episode. The weather is nice for it.”

Glimmer looks at her just a second too long. Then, “We’re taking my mom’s car.” She throws her keys at Catra. "In case you want to go out for a bit. Bright Moon is quite beautiful under the rain." 

"Thanks." 

She watches as Angella rushes through the door, Glimmer on her ankles and Bow following them. She counts the seconds, waits for the engineering to rumble and gets further away. Then, she gets the keys and doesn't look back before leaving. 

The mug remains on the coffee table, her laptop still open on the episode.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look how hard i can talk about catra's friendship with glimmer&bow [hands you this chapter] 
> 
> also thank you So much again for the amazing feedback <3

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [twitter](http://twitter.com/catriadora) ♡


End file.
